Kent
by RenkonNairu
Summary: Conner Kent can't seem to get Superman to acknowledge him, but what if Superboy were to befriend a reporter for the Daily Planet, Clark Kent, instead?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of CD Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter One:

Conner couldn't sleep.

No, that wasn't exactly true. Conner had difficulty sleeping. Often times he would wake up in the middle of the night or early morning disoriented and confused, wondering why he was laying on his back covered in sheets of fabric rather than reclining at an obtuse angle wearing a solar suit so tight it might as well have been painted on. It took him only a few moments to remember that he was in his suit in Mount Justice rather than his pod in the bowels of Cadmus' secret laboratories. He would remind himself that he was safe and that he was free.

Repeating these facts to himself would calm the Boy of Steel, but he was never able to return to sleep. It was strange, when he was at Cadmus it seemed all he did was sleep. Laying dormant in a hibernation-like trance while his three gnomes educated him on Earth's history, science, math, psychology, culture and, of course, Superman. But since escaping from them Conner found that out of the twenty-four hours in a day, he only ever seemed to sleep for about five of them.

This was not unnatural for a human. The education he's received from the gnomes taught him that the average human needed only eight to nine hours of sleep to remain healthy but that statistics showed that _most_ whom worked or attended school slept only six to seven hours. He was just one hour short of the low end of 'normal' for a human. The problem was, Conner wasn't human. The fact that he was a clone and not a 'real' person aside; he had been cloned from Superman whom was kryptonian –an alien. Was five hours normal for his race, or was there some flaw in his design that prevented him from gaining more than five hours REM sleep?

The knowledge of psychology he'd been programmed with told Conner that his sleep issue could easily be a symptom of a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. But if that were the case, wouldn't he also present other symptoms such as flashbacks, or chronic anxiety? Whatever the reason, it didn't seem like it would go away any time soon. It had already been several months since his escape from Cadmus with the help of Wally, Kaldur and Robin and (barring exceptions for missions) it had become part of his 'standard' morning routine.

Wake-up early, usually with the sun, sometimes a little before. He would stretch, check the time, calculate how much sleep he'd actually gotten, wonder if it was healthy and then roll out of bed (careful not to step on Wolf whom had taken to sleeping on the floor by his bed).

Once on his feet, Conner's routine observed an almost military discipline. He would make his bed careful to, not only tuck the sheets under the mattress, but to also fold the corners at acute angles on the end so that the made bed looked like one perfect rectangular cuboid. Then he would shower, a quick but methodical process that took only ten minuets (never a second more). He would start with his head, washing his hair and then his face, then shoulders, chest and arms, then belly, back, posterior and genitals and finally legs and feet. The logic of it was that gravity pulled the water downwards and the water pulled the soap and dirt with it. It would have been inefficient to clean in any other order.

After the shower teeth got brushed and hair got combed. His clothes from the previous day were thrown in the laundry hamper and a fresh set was selected from his monotonous wardrobe of black Ts with the red S-shield, cargo-pants and commando boots, and donned without ceremony. Bed made, body cleaned and clothed he would exit his suit to greet the ghostly silent complex that was Mt. Justice –the former headquarters of the Justice League of America.

As he passed M'gann's room (the only other member of the Young Justice team whom actually lived at Mt. Justice) his superior hearing would pick up the faint rhythmic sound of her breathing, still wrapped in the tranquil oblivion of sleep's thrall. Some mornings he would hear her muttering in her sleep, sometimes in her own Martian tongue which he did not understand, other times in English –just words or phrases from popular American TV, occasionally her characteristic "Hello, M'gann!" and sometimes, Conner would hear his own name muttered in an affectionate or other times deep and throaty whisper.

It was mornings like that that tempted him to break his pattern. Her voice and his name set his blood on fire in a strange and unfamiliar but not by any means unpleasant way. On the contrary, Conner wanted to hear her say his name like that when she was awake and gazing into his eyes. He didn't know why, but hearing her mutter his name like he were a gasping need made him want to slip into her room and rouse her from her slumber. Though, what they would do after that he hadn't the slightest idea. In the end she would probably be cross over being woken before she was ready and he hated it when she was mad at him. Though she never stayed angry at him for very long, he still found it rather unpleasant.

And so Conner would walk past her door, ignoring her whispers and soft calls.

He would continue though the living areas of the base and through the hangar to the main hangar bay door, affectionately deemed the 'front door' by the rest of the team. The sun had usually climbed just over the horizon line that separated sea from sky by this time and Conner turned to it for a few moments to ponder it as the source of his and Superman's power and why he did not have all the same powers as his (unwilling) genetic donor when those powers all came from the same source. He tried to keep these moments of depressing introspection short of course, as thoughts of Superman only reminded him of his own deficiencies and how the man who should be his mentor could barely stand to look at him.

Batman said to give him time. '_Kryptonians, as you know are very hard headed_.'

But it had been several months already. He and his team had already fulfilled several successful missions or varying types and difficulties. Hadn't that proven to Superman that he was worthy? The seasons had changed, summer had given way to fall, Conner had started school with M'gann under the alias 'Conner Kent'… Exactly how much time did Superman need?

With a heavy sigh, the Boy of Steel pushed these thoughts aside and mounted his motorcycle. Not the 'Super-Cycle', as Wally had recently re-christened Sphere. Batman had been very firm in explaining that because of the alien nature of Sphere's technology and how little they actually knew about it, he didn't want Conner taking her off base whenever the inclination struck. But since he was a head-strong and stubborn teenager and Batman couldn't breath down his neck all the time that when he did choose to throw caution (and orders) to the wind and take the sentient machine out joyriding, he at least only ever do so as 'Superboy' rather than 'Conner Kent'. A distinction that the Boy of Steel was still getting used to.

It was strange thinking of Conner and Superboy as two different people seeing as they were both him and (to the best of his well programmed knowledge) he was one person. Having two names did not make one two people, but Batman wanted him to pretend that it did. So, Conner played along (as best he could) mostly to appease Bats, but also to gain a better understanding of the odd concept that Cadmus had never thought to upload into him.

And so, on a perfectly ordinary motorcycle that was painted a bright but otherwise unremarkable shade of red the decidedly _not _ordinary or unremarkable Conner Kent rode out to fetch a morning paper.

…

(A/N: Not sure if I'm gonna continue this or not. I have a bad track record when it comes to actually finishing fan fictions. People tell me if you think its worth it and want more.)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of CD Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Two:

M'gann was usually up by the time he would return with two different newspapers under his arm. He always got two, the _Happy Harbor Crier_, which was the local newspaper of the town that was closest to Mt. Justice. The town that both he and M'gann attended high school in. Conner found that he liked to keep up-to-date on the current events of the immediate area in which he lived. Also, it sometimes proved to be rather amusing. Happy Harbor was a small town (by the standards of _most_ Americans) and there was only so much local news.

"We made the front page." He commented kissing the Martian girl on the cheek affectionately and drawing her attention away from the eggs and bacon she was trying her best not to burn. Conner held up the _Crier_ so she could read the headline:

"**Invasion Hoax Sends High School Dance into Panic!"**

M'gann giggled slightly at the still fresh memory of how they had out-pranked one of their classmates with _his own_ prank. She returned his affectionate kiss with one of her own. "What do you think they'd say if they knew it had been us?"

Conner merely shrugged. To spite the vast cornucopia of knowledge he's been programmed with and the few months of actual experience attempting to interact with other people he still found it difficult (and sometimes damn near impossible) to predict other's actions and reactions.

"So, what's going on in the rest of the world?" She asked after his non-verbal response.

It was then that Conner turned his attention to the other newspaper he bought every morning as part of his routine. _The Daily Planet._ A national news paper who's home office was based in the city of Metropolis –Superman's city. It covered national and international news, but its cover stories tended to (more often than not) focus on the Man of Steel himself, Superman. The man from whom Conner had been copied, the man he had been taught he would be a replacement for, the man he loved as a shining aspiration –an image of what he should strive to be. But he was also a man Conner hated. He was everything that Conner was not, he was the original, he was the hero, he had abilities that Conner did not have, experiences that Conner would never duplicate but worst of all… worst of all, he was the man Conner wanted most to please and he was the one member of the JLA that avoided him as if he had an infectious disease.

But to spite that, the Boy of Steel still bought a copy of the daily Planet every morning wanting to stay up-to-date with the happenings in his genetic donor's life. He still held to the hope that one day Superman would come around (as Batman kept insisting he would) and Conner wanted to show him that even without guidance or assignment, he had still been paying attention and studying.

Today's issue of the _Planet_ did not disappoint. The front page sported a wide image of the Metropolis skyline with Superman flying between the skyscrapers, his fists outstretched before him, his cape streaming behind him, in furious pursuit of what looked like a flying robot. It seemed that his genetic parent had had a far more exciting Halloween than Conner had. Although, Conner imagined his had probably been less stressful.

He unfolded the paper to read the body of the article. Apparently the robot was an experimental drone that had been developed by a robotics lab owned by Lex Corp. (Conner noticed that allot of Superman's articles also dealt with the company.) Lex Corp.'s President and owner, Alexander Luthor denied any involvement in both the drone's actions as well as the project itself and only circumstantial evidence could be found to the contrary, nothing concrete. The article ended with the author making a note what while aspects of the case still remained a mystery, 'this reported is still glad Superman had saved the day'.

Before Conner even checked the by-line he knew who had written the article. _All _of Ms. Lane's articles ended that way. He had never met the woman and only had his subjective view of her based off of her articles, but even to his inexperienced mind it was obvious that the woman was infatuated with Superman. Her articles always carried an undertone of 'Superman's so great!' that grated on Conner's nerves ever so slightly. It was a shame that _most_ of the articles about him were written by her. He much preferred the articles by Mr. Kent (and not just because they shared a common surname, although he did find that amusing too).

Clark Kent's articles were a bit dryer and sometimes harder to read because of that, but he wasn't quite as 'up' on Superman all the time like Lane was. He gave the facts of the events, the witness' views, and the final outcome sometimes accompanied by an illustrative quote. It occasionally felt a bit like reading bullet points only in essay form, but overall there was just something so much more 'real' or honest about Kent's articles. Lane gave the impression that Superman was perfect, that he puked sunshine and pooped rainbows. Kent was more down-to-Earth and depicted Superman as just another guy who just happened to have semi-god-like powers.

/_'Paper down._'/ M'gann's gentle but firm voice tapped his mind almost like an ephemeral hand patting him on the shoulder.

He obediently folded the _Planet_ and set the paper off to the side. She set two plates down on the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the common area and one on the floor for Wolf. She sat herself next to Conner, scooting her stool so close to his that their thighs nearly touched and he once again felt that hot, burning sensation under his skin like all the blood in his body had caught fire and was rushing around in a panic. Being a telepath/empath Conner was sure M'gann was aware of the reaction she elicited in him and he could only assume that it was a normal occurrence in most non-artificial people since she didn't seem to be bothered by it in the least.

The Boy of Steel turned his attention from the exciting effect his girlfriend had on him to the food she had set in front of him. It was supposed to be an omelet (he assumed) as it was comprised mostly of egg with sliced onions and bits of bacon mixed in. But over half of it was a dark brown, showing that M'gann still hadn't figured out the right balanced of cook time and heat intensity. But he ate it anyway. Not just because Cadmus had never thought to program the gnomes to teach him how to cook for himself, but also because it made her happy when he ate her cooking and Conner liked making M'gann happy. He took a bite of the omelet, chewed a few times then decided it was better to just get it out of his mouth quickly and so swallowed it.

/'_I invited Artemis and Zatanna to the dance the other night, but neither of them came._'/ M'gann commented over a psychic wave, her mouth full of food. /_'I wonder how they spent their Halloween…_'/

Conner passed her his copy of the _Planet_, /_'Page three._'/

M'gann flipped to the appropriate page and saw,

"**Fem Fatal Duo Solve Museum Theft & Murder!"**

The article went on to explain that a priceless ancient sword had been stolen from a museum in Manhattan and two JLA side-kicks, Artemis and Zatanna had tracked down the thief to his home where they had also found the grave of a young girl. Somehow, M'gann didn't see it working out _quite_ that way, but then that could just be her subjective interpretation.

/_'Sound's like they had fun._'/

/_'Didn't we have fun too?_'/ Conner asked, suddenly insecure over the possibility of her having preferred to spend her first Halloween on Earth doing hero'y stuff with the girls rather than doing 'normal kid' stuff with him (although, if he had been asked, he would have preferred the hero'y stuff up until the invasion hoax started, _that_ was when he had started to enjoy himself).

M'gann swallowed the bite she had just taken as said aloud, "Oh, Conner, of course I enjoyed going to the dance with you!" She hugged his arm ardently, pressing his elbow between her small but perfectly shaped breasts.

He felt his face grow hot and knew that the skin pigmentation on his cheeks were coloring into what was known as a 'blush'. He stuttered out an awkward "I'm glad." And began shoveling omelet into his mouth with a furious passion.

M'gann blinked in confusion at his behavior for a moment or two before smiling to herself and turning her attention back to her own meal.

…

The days of the weekend such as Saturday and Sunday (and occasionally Friday or Monday depending on holidays) were unstructured and lacked a routine past the point where Conner returned with his newspapers. Occasionally he would go out with Wolf for some exercise. The two had developed several games that accommodated the both of them. Other times Black Canary would zetta over for the mandatory training sessions that were a requirement to stay in the YJ. Most of the team spent their weekends at the base. To spite everyone's complaints at the very beginning, Mt. Justice really had become a 'club house' of sorts. Even when they didn't have missions and weren't training, the team just seemed to gather there for not other reason than just to 'hang out'.

When the weather had still been warm enough the team had gone to the small beach at the foot of the mountain where it rose up out of the sea during their down time. But as summer changed to fall and the weather got colder until only Kaldur, M'gann and Conner could stand the chill their recreation activities migrated inside and beach time or hill side picnics were replaced by movie marathons and video game tournaments.

Artemis and Robin were the first to arrive later that Saturday morning, as Conner and M'gann were finishing up the dishes. They both lived in Gotham and so arrived within minuets of each other. Artemis came first, stumbling as if she's been pushed with Robin following only a few moments later saying something about never again wanting to go through the zetta tubes first if he could avoid it (apparently the end of a conversation that neither Connor nor M'gann had been present for the first half of). They said their cheerful hellos before M'gann excitedly rushed up to Artemis clutching the newspaper article Conner had shown her only a few moments before.

"Artemis, you made the _Planet_!" She beamed at her friend as she handed the other woman the short article.

"Oh." Artemis' eyes flicked between the bubbly Martian girl and the tall dark and broody Kryptonian boy. She took note of the frothy dish water in the sink in front of where M'gann had previously been standing and the plate and drying cloth that Conner held in his hands. They looked so… _domestic_ together; she mentally kicked herself for not seeing their relationship sooner. Avoiding eye contact with either of them, Artemis turned her attention to the paper M'gann held out for her. "That's cool. 'Fem fatal', huh. Pretty sweet." A brief pause. And then muttered so softly that only one with super-human hearing could detect, "But that doesn't matter if he's already fallen for 'the girl next door'."

The Boy of Steel raised an eyebrow at the odd comment, neither understanding what it meant or why it seemed so significant to his teammate. But he opted not to comment; some things were better left alone.

"I wanna see." Robin came up beside the blond fem fatal and snatched the article from her hands.

"Hey!"

While the two began to battle over who got to read the paper first, Conner took the front page with Superman's article before it could get to mangled by their fighting and fetched a pair of scissors to cut it out lovingly and add it to an already sizable archive of Superman articles he had been accumulating since his escape form Cadmus and subsequent joining of Young Justice so many months ago. Once the article had been severed from the rest of the paper, he folded it with care and placed it in his back pocket before returning to his share of the clean-up from breakfast.

…

Central City was in a different time-zone than Gotham and Happy Harbor were and so Wally arrived a couple hours after Robin and Artemis had already ripped her article in two. He zipped into the common area, dumped what looked like two DDR mats on the couch, said a quick "Hi, guys." and then zipped to the kitchen and began rummaging through the 'fridge.

/_'There're energy drinks on the bottom shelf and granola bars in the pantry._'/ M'gann sent over a person to person psychic thread.

/_'Thanks, babe._'/ He shot back. /_'You take such good care of me._'/

M'gann smiled politely (to spite the fact that his back was turned to her and he could not see) but didn't return any of the flirtation that oozed through the connection. She pulled Conner down by the wrist to sit next to her on the couch, intertwining her fingers in his and was amused by the mingled feelings of self-consciousness and heat the action elicited in him. He'd been reacting like that to her for a while now and she found it both maddeningly frustrating and endearing at the same time.

The Martian girl had been thrilled by his kiss at Belle Reve prison when he feared that she might have been frozen to death (as if a litter terrestrial ice could kill a native Martian) and when they started calling each other their 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' she had been overjoyed. But now M'gann was ready to start moving to the next level but she was finding that Conner was somewhat… dense when it came to the 'next steps'. They would have to sit down and have a serious conversation soon. He could be incredibly knowledgeable about things like the current political climates of obscure foreign nations thanks to Cadmus, but when it came to more mundane matters such as interpersonal or even romantic relationships he was deplorably retarded.

When the Boy of Steel heard the sound of the pantry opening he called a warning over his shoulder, "If you get crumbs all over the place like last time, you're cleaning them up yourself. Just because you don't live here doesn't give you leave to make a mess and then run away before cleaning it up."

"Jeez, Con, you're such a stickler." Wally rejoined the group with a Monster drink in one hand, a peanut butter and granola bar in the other, several other bars stuck out of his pockets and crumbs already trickled from his partly masticated bar leaving a trail of golden-brown dust behind him. "Tell ya what, if you can beat me at DDR on Expert level I'll clean the whole cave! But if you break my mats by mistake with your Super-strength you have to come over to my place and clean my room at home."

Conner considered the terms, approaching then in a way very similar to how the gnomes had programmed him to consider a battle field. He weighed the relative delicacy required to used one of those mats against his own strength and his control over it. Then he considered the messes the young speedster left behind in the cave when he went home and inferred an approximate level of mess to expect in Kid Flash's own home. After considering all the factors Conner concluded that the stakes were not in his favor and the terms did not make the risk worth the gain. And so he crossed his arm over his chest and said, "T'ch. Video games are a waste of time."

…

Video games may be a waste of time. There are very few who would dispute that claim, but that didn't make them any less fun and after a little coercion from his teammates Conner found himself attempting to navigate the brightly colored arrows to the song Tsugaru on Beginner mode. Peer pressure can be a mighty powerful force when applied properly. The others whooped and cheered, even when he missed an arrow (which was rather often) and said that if he finished the set without getting a Fail they'd each challenge him to a versus (all in the spirit of good fun, no bets or gambling included).

Sitting on the couch behind him Artemis bit her bottom lip. He might already be spoken for, but gosh darned it all; he was still one sweet piece of ass! The blond archer indulged herself in admiring his well-sculpted backside while he stamped on the mat with just enough delay between steps to calculate the appropriate force necessary to activate the mat's sensors but not enough to cause the thing any damage. Her eyes caught what looked like the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out of his back pocket, being worked out by his motions.

"What's this?" She asked, reaching to pluck the sheet from his back pocket. She told herself it was because she was curious and not because she wanted an excuse to brush her hand over his ass. She unfolded what turned out to be a newspaper article about Superman. "Oh, Con, don't tell me you're still hung-up on that deadbeat?"

Conner spun around, his game forgotten (he was doing a poor job at it anyway). He snatched the paper from her hands and snapped, "Its none of your business."

He had fewer explosive triggers now than when he's first left Cadmus, some had eased away with time, some (such as his aversion to telepathy) had pulled a complete one-eighty and become strengths while other triggers had only intensified. The subject of Superman was one of those triggers. He both loved and hated the man. He loved him as one loves an idol or favored role model, something a person strives to become in the interest of self-betterment. But he also hated him, hated him because he was not created to stand at Superman's side as support or back-up, no he was meant to replace the Man of Steel and Conner couldn't help but wonder (and fear) that with every step he took to emulate his hero he was actually playing into the fell villains' plot. He both loved and hated Superman and in a way, he also both loved and hated himself. And so the subject was one that had to be tread softly or not at all.

"Look, I know a thing or two about crappy fathers." Artemis began in her best attempt at 'soothing'. Artemis wasn't a very gentle person by nature, 'treading softly' was not listed on her skill-set when it came to heart-to-hearts. "And let me tell you, they're not worth it."

"But Superman's not my 'father'." Conner corrected, stuffing the article back in his pocket and trying his best to put a leash over his temper. Artemis didn't mean any harm, no one on the team really means any harm, he just have very sensitive buttons and allot of them. "He's just… my 'original source material'."

The fem fatal waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever you call him it doesn't change the fact that he's a dicky person that you still want in your life for your own irrational reasons." She still wouldn't meet his eyes but then, when sharing sometimes it was better not to. "Look, I get it. When my family started breaking apart I wanted to do everything I could to keep us all together. But at some point you gotta wake-up and see that they're just not worth it. Its not that you don't deserve them, they don't deserve you." She chanced a look up at him, decided that her shock from having her crush crushed was still to fresh and focused on his smooth forehead curtained in dark bangs instead. "That's the way it is, Con."

"No, you don't get it." He snarled back, his temper slipping the leash he really hadn't managed to get around it. "None of your experiences apply here because you always only ever had to deal with real people. I'm not a 'real' person, I wasn't born into a family like you were, I was _created_ for a purpose. That purpose became null when I chose to abandon Cadmus. Now I'm free to choose my purpose like a real person. But whatever I choose depends on other real people and their choices and I think we can all agree here that I just don't _get_ people. But Superman… he's the original that I was copied from… if anyone on this planet would get me I thought he would. I was made for him…"

"Sounds to me like you're just clinging to your original 'purpose'." Artemis growled back up at him. She refused to be intimidated by him.

Conner's anger deflated when the blond fem fatal hit (rather hard) on one of his fears and he stood there for a moment to two before muttering, "That's… that's not true."

The room fell silent for a moment as Artemis paused to think of a comeback that didn't basically boil down to, 'Yes you do.' The only sound that filled the room was the DDR game proclaiming with a sympathetic groan that Conner had failed the song.

"Hey, I got a question." Wally finally broke the tension in the room. "What have you been doing to actually get Superman's attention?"

"What've I been doing?" Conner echoed. "Well… I've been doing missions with the rest of you guys and I try to help if I'm in his general area when something goes down… But he usually just brushes me off and flies away…"

"That might be one of your problems right there." The speedster ripped the foil wrapping off another granola bar and took a big bite out of it, sprinkling the couch and floor where he sat with crumbs. "You're being to passive. Ever heard the old saying 'Out of sight, out of mind'? You're doing missions with us is great and all, but remember we report to Bats, not Big Blue so unless Batman goes out of his way to update Superman, he's not gonna know what you're doing. He might not even think about you at all until you show up in his town and then he doesn't know what to think. Hey, don't make that face!"

Conner glared at the redhead. He was painfully aware of Superman's complete disregard for him but he hadn't considered the idea that he might be so incredibly unimportant to his genetic donor that the man would go so far as to actually _forget_ about him when he wasn't around. He chewed on that unpleasant thought for a while, completely ignoring the crumbs Walling sprinkled over the floor as he waved his granola bar around continuing.

"What you gotta do is make him notice you. I don't mean just showing up when the cookie-cutter baddie of the week shows up asking for a knuckle sandwich. No, ya gotta make him think about you when you're not right under his nose gazing up at him with your lost little puppy-dog eyes." A pause. "Well, as close to 'puppy-dog' eyes as you can get."

"And so what do you suggest?" Conner crossed his arms over his chest.

Here Wally paused, unsure of what to suggest. Then Robin got a wicked mischievous idea and a wide (almost evil) grin spread over his face.

"You could do an interview with a reporter." The Boy Wonder suggested innocently. "I'm _sure_ Superman reads the newspaper. If they're printing stories about the Superboy he wouldn't be able to help thinking about you. He'd be confronted with your image and stories about you every day, or at least every week."

"I can't imagine many paper routs making it all the way to his Fortress of Solitude." Conner grumbles. "Besides, wouldn't your mentor disapprove?"

"He might." Robin nodded. "But you can always rebut his reprimands by saying that Superman, his colleague and fellow founding member of the JLA does it _all the time_! Wally, go pull up Superman's first interview."

"Right-o!" Kid Flash zipped from the common room in the direction of the computer room. Some time later he returned with several sheets of white printer paper in-hand which he then handed off to Conner. The Boy of Steel paused and suppressed a groan at the article's title.

"**I Spent an Evening with Superman"**

By Lois Lane

Of course it would be a Lane article. He scanned the first few paragraphs to find that Superman had actually told her allot in his first interview. He gave away his height and weight, the complete story of how his parents had sent him to Earth, the exact coordinates of where planet Krypton used to be… Conner imagined that if he's given away that much information Batman would find a way to take him apart and ship him back to the factory.

"I donno…" He said, moving to set the article down then changed his mind and folded it carefully and placed it in the same pocket as the one from this morning (it would be added to his archive, he didn't have anything from before he had been awakened). "I don't even know how to approach a reporter…"

"Pff, well that's not hard." Artemis snorted. "They're all such self-serving vultures, all you have to do is find one and say, 'Excuse me, I'm a superhero and I have something to say. How'd you like to be the lucky person to take my _exclusive_ interview?' Easy as pie."

"I donno…"

Robin came up behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. That wicked grin was back on his face again and his eyes glinted mischievously behind his shades. "I can suggest a good reporter in Metropolis for you… if you like."

…

Kaldur arrived a little past lunchtime to find them all sitting around the TV taking turns on the versus mode of a fighter. The Atlantian looked around at the gathered company and noticed that one of their party was absent. "Where's Conner?"

"Out. He had an errand to run." Robin said without taking his eyes off the screen.

…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Three:

It was the middle of the evening when the Super-cycle finaly made it to the shinning, sparkling city that was Metropolis. Conner had watched it grow in the distance, at first looking like a star field only on the ground but then growing and morphing into tall spires speckled with the bright yellow lights of office windows who's staff had not yet gone home for the evening. And each twinkling tower that reached up towards the heavens as if trying to grasp at the sky was crowned by a blinking crimson light that never stopped, a warning to low-flying aircrafts (or Super-people) that there was a building there and if they could please not crash into it (if at all possible).

Conner, ney, Superboy, he was Superboy now. Conner Kent was just an ordinary high school sophomore, he did not ride around on sentient flying alien tri-cycles and he did not travel from Happy Harbor, to Metropolis in only six and a half hours. No, those were things that Conner Kent did not do and could not do because Conner Kent was just 'a normal high school boy' (part of that keeping your identities separate concept that Batman was trying to drill into him). But Superboy on the other hand _could_ do all those things.

Superboy was a clone grown from a genetic sample taken from Superman. Superboy _did_ fly around on sentient alien tri-cycles and he _could_ travel from Happy Harbor to Metropolis in just six and a half short hours. Conner Kent had been left behind in the hangar bay of Mt. Justice, it was Superboy whom rode out of that hangar astride the gravity mocking wheels of Sphere –the Super-cycle and so it was Superboy who now rode over the cityscape searching for the roof of the Daily Planet and the reported Robin had suggested he meet with. A reporter named Clark Kent.

Superboy had been surprised hear Robin suggest the very reported that just earlier that morning he had been thinking he wanted to read more from. He enjoyed Kent's writing style much better than Lane's. Even when he wrote about events that had nothing to do with Superman, Kent was thorough, and clear; giving only the facts and interjecting no opinion of his own to sway the reader save maybe the occasional quote from a witness or other relevant by standard. Superboy imagined that if he had any such inclination towards writing, he would write in a way much similar to Clark Kent's.

Now, where was that building…?

"Ahhhhhhhh!" An ear piercing feminine scream rent the air and Superboy wined with the pain the sound sent lancing through his sensitive eardrums.

The Daily Planet could wait a few more minuets, it sounded like a woman needed help. He may only be a shoddy copy of Superman, but he was still a member of the YJ, a sub-division of the JLA and he had an obligation to help and protect the innocent. He turned Sphere around and piloted the Super-cycle in the direction of the woman's scream.

He found her hanging from a broken window on the outside of one of the upper most floors of a trade building. She was holding onto the sill for dear like but the broken shards of glass left in the frame were making ribbons of her hands, whether it happened from pain, blood loss or the slickness of her bleeding hands, her grip wouldn't hold and it didn't. It was the slicknes that did it, the blood welling from the cuts on her fingers and palms made the woman's grip slippery to the point where she couldn't hold herself and she fell.

Superboy sent Sphere into a nose dive, he lifted himself up into a half-standing half-crouching position on the seat and stretched his arms out to catch the once again shrieking woman.

"Its alright, I've got you." Superboy assured her once he was sure himself that he actually did have her. The Super-cycle pulled up from its nose dive and leveled off several meters from the ground.

"Thank you, Super –kid!" The wind blew the woman's dark hair out of her face so that she could see clearly that her rescuer was not the handsome man in his prime that the city was used to seeing but rather a younger looking version of the same face, the face of a boy whom was just growing into his manhood. The term 'jail-bate' rose to mind.

"-Boy." He corrected her. "I'm Superboy, not Superkid. That just sounds stupid."

"Superboy, huh." The woman tested the name then winced as her adrenaline began to wear off and the painful glass shards in her hands were remembered.

"Are you okay?" Superboy asked. Cadmus had programmed him with a little bit of field-dressing first aid, but he program had been meant for first aid on himself or someone like himself, he wasn't sure if he was up to the delicate task of carefully removing shards of glass from a normal human's hands. Flying her to the hospital was what he should do. But before he could reclaim a sitting position in the Super-cycle he was frozen mid-motion by a familiar voice that was both welcomed and unwelcome.

"Superboy?"

"Superman!" His genetic donor hovered in the air in front of the cycle, glaring down at the boy as if he'd just hit a baseball through his grouchy neighbor's window.

"Superman!" The woman exclaimed with more joyful pleasure than Superboy felt was common among rescue victims.

"Lois!" Superman faltered for a half a moment.

"Lois?" Superboy echoed. "As in Lane?" The boy looked from the woman whom was smiling through the pain in her hand to his genetic parent whom looked like he'd just caught a KGB agent in the White House. Then it hit him. "First name basis!"

No wonder all of Lanes articles were all 'Superman's so great!' She wasn't just infatuated with him, the feeling was mutual. That also explained why she was also the leading authority on Superman. Lois Lane was Superman's… what did Wally call it…? 'Romantic interest.'

…And he (a person whom Superman didn't entirely trust) was holding her, cut and bleeding in his arms. Superboy suddenly _felt_ like the metaphorical child caught hitting the ball through the neighbor's window. He stared up at Superman wondering what he was going to say or do. That last time they'd spoken was that fateful day on the bridge. He had delivered a short lecture to the young doppelganger on forethought and planning. What would the Man of Steel say now?

Superman stared down at the boy that had been made to replace him, the boy Bruce called his 'son'. It had been some time since he'd last seen the boy, but not much seemed to have changed. He still saw the same smoldering emotion behind the crystal blue eyes, his own crystal blue eyes. Behind that handsome and youthful face was a roiling sea of un-channeled feeling with no tangible outlet, a powder keg that that only needed a spark to set it off and with a fifth of his powers, when that powder keg blew the collateral damage would be immeasurably high.

Lois, still in Superboy's arms looked from one to the other. "Oh, please, don't let me disturb you, boys." She muttered sardonically. "I'll just sit here bleeding out my hands then, shall I? Hands I need for my job, I might add!"

That snapped Superman out of his seeming state of shell shock, he always appeared to be some level of shell shocked around Superboy. Did he really disturb his genetic parent all that much?

"Give her to me, Superboy. I'll take her." He held out his arm to take her and Superboy was more than happy to pass his 'romantic interest' off to him. "Batman didn't give you any assignments here."

It wasn't phrased as a question but the Man of Steel's meaning was clear and Superboy didn't have to be a telepath like M'gann to know what he wanted. '_What are you doing here?_'

"No, Batman didn't give me an assignment here. In fact, he hasn't been by the cave all day." Superboy replied. "I'm here because I'm a free person and I choose to be here. If you have a problem with that take it but with my creators, Batman and your US Constitution. G'night, Superman."

And with that Superboy sat back down in his seat on Sphere and piloted the Super-cycle away from the Man of Steel and his lady friend and back towards the Daily Planet headquarters.

Behind him his superior hearing caught Lois Lane's questioning words, "That's the Superkid from the bridge, right? When are you going to tell me about him?"

He didn't bother to wait to hear Superman's reply; instead Superboy revved the cycle's engines to drown out whatever it was his genetic-parent was going to say. It had been months since the incident on the bridge and if Superman hadn't bothered to correct his 'romantic interest' on his name then the man really didn't care about him at all.

…

Superboy landed the Super-cycle on the roof of the Daily Planet building with a soft _thunk_. He was not in the best of moods and was considering throwing Wally's whole stupid plan out the window and just going home. Superman obviously didn't want him around and no amount of public attention would ever change that. The part of him that loved his idol and strived for his approval was ready to just pack it in and call it a night.

But the part of him that hated his genetic-parent, the part of him that resented Superman as everything that he was not, an unattainable goal that could never be met, that part of him wanted to stay if for no other reason than to 'stick it to the man' as the saying went. And it was this part of him that drove Superboy to dismount the Super-cycle and step towards the Planet's roof access door. Behind him Superboy heard the Super-cycle transform back into Sphere and he reached a hand behind him to give her an affectionate pet.

Most roof access doors could only opened from the inside and whoever might catch themselves out on the roof it the door closed behind them would quickly find themselves trapped on a seventy story skyscraper. But as Superboy approached the door, he noticed that the door didn't appear to have a lock at all and in the place of where one might have a sign that says "CAUTION: Door Locks from the Inside" there was instead a sign that took up almost the entire door and read, "ATTENTION: Superman, it was cheaper to by you this sign rather than keep replacing our door knobs. Please remember to shut it while entering and exiting. Also, walls, floors and ceilings are there for reasons. AS ARE DOORS, ELEVATORS AND STAIRS! We suggest you explore their possibilities. Regards, DP Maintenance Staff."

Superboy found that the door did, in fact, have no lock at all and opened easily to his slight turn of the knob. As he descended the stirs to the floor that he'd been told Kent worked on he noticed the drywall on either side of the stairwell was mottled and patchy as if almost every single inch of it had been remolded or replaced at different times with different materials. Did Superman get into allot of battles here at the Daily Planet? Wouldn't he want to try and keep the fighting _away_ from where his 'romantic interest' worked? Or did the Man of Steel view it as brining the stories to her?

Either way Superboy decided that it wasn't any business of his what his genetic-parent did at his 'romantic interest's' place of work. He turned his attention from the battle scares on the walls and back to counting floors. When he got to the one he wanted, he stepped out of the stairwell and into what would only be described at a maelstrom of activity. It was seven forty-five in the evening, quickly approaching eight o' clock but the bull pit of the Daily Planet was till bustling with activity.

He suddenly felt just a bit more like Conner Kent, average high school boy confused and out of his element than he felt like Superboy, clone of Superman confident and commanding hero almost as strong as the Man of Steel himself. But he was already here, he might as well go all the way. He cast his eyes about the bull pit only to realize that he had no idea what Clark Kent was supposed to look like. He had never seen the man before, only ever read a few of his articles.

Feeling just a little lost, Superboy zeroed in on an man in a windowed office. People in offices were the ones in charge, right? And the people in charge usually knew where the people who worked under them where, right? Superboy walked into Perry's office only to have his ears offended by the harsh bark of the man yelling into his bluetooth.

Superboy covered his ears to drown out the sound just long enough to readjust his hearing to the enclosed space before saying, "Excuse me."

He got no response from the man.

Superboy looked down at the name plaque on the man's desk to find that his name was Perry White. "Excuse me, Mr. White." He tried again to little avail. Then he reminded himself that he was not a scared little high school boy but the living clone of a super-powered alien and so tried putting a little more authority into his voice when he said again, "Excuse me, Mr. White, I have a question for you."

At a voice of authority so much like Superman's Perry turned to look at the boy, really look at him. "I'll call you back." He said to the person in the other end of his cell. "You're him, you're that kid from the bridge a few months back… Superkid."

"Super_boy_!" He corrected. "Really how hard is that? Anyway, I'm looking for one of your reporters, a guy by the name of Kent. Clark Kent."

"Kent?" Perry echoed. "He's out on assignment with Lane."

So it Kent had been with Lane with she went out that window he was either dead, in trouble and in need of a rescue or had just been completely passed by and forgotten in the rush to save Lane and the resulting meeting with Superman.

"Has he got a cell phone?" Superboy pressed. If Kent answered his phone them it was pretty safe to say that he wasn't dead. If he didn't answer, well, then he could just follow the phone's GPS to find the man and either save him or bring back his body.

"Uh, sure." Perry keyed in a speed dial on his phone and then he was back on his bluetooth. "Kent!" He exclaimed after a prolonged pause. "Where are you and Lane? Wherever you are, get your butts back here pronto! You won't believe the story that just walked into my office! What? Out a window? Well, is she okay? Of course he did, Superman always saves her, its like their version of foreplay."

Superboy bristled at that. It hadn't been Superman who caught Lane as she fell out that window, it had been _him_! It was bad enough that Superman refused to acknowledge him, but stealing the credit for his actions was a new low. Maybe Artemis was right, Superman was a dicky person.

"Okay, make sure Lane's doing alright at the hospital then get your butt back here!" He hung up. "Can I get you some coffee?"

…

Superboy refused the offered coffee, he had enough trouble sleeping as it was without introducing a foreign chemical into his system. Not that there was any guarantee that caffeine would have any effect on him at all, him being kryptonian. But why risk it?

Superboy spent the time waiting for Kent in Perry's office where the windowed doors dampened some of the noise from the pit. He stood at parade rest looking out over the Daily Planet's office and was amazed that such an inefficient workplace managed to crank out a new and up-to-date news paper every day. If he had been running the paper rather than Perry he would have the different departments sequestered off from each other by cubicles. Not the small personal cubicles one usually finds in data processing firms, that would defeat the purpose. The members of divisions still needed to be able to talk clearly and easily with their fellow division partners.

No, Superboy would have a separate cubicle for the gossip columnists, another cubicle for the calendar people, another for classifieds, city beat, comics, crossword, etc. And efficient work space was one that minimized unnecessary human interaction and maximized constructive communication and exchange of ideas. What Superboy saw when he looked out into the bull pit was not constructive communication or the exchange of ideas.

Papers were strewn over desks with nothing een resembling order or even a stack. People chatted to one another about irrelevant topics such as their love lives, their childrens' birthdays, their divorce, etc. none of which was pertinent to their work at the Daily Planet.

Of course, he was not in charge of the Daily Planet and didn't intend to be. This was all hypothetical planning. A method of passing the time while he waited for Kent to arrive. He found that when he was calm he could be very clever and efficient, it was only when his emotions were running high that he seemed to louse all this wonderful logic and reason, throw caution to the wind and simply act on impulse. That was probably why he preformed less than admirably on missions and threw tantrums in the training ring. When he was alone in the quiet of his room or now standing at parade rest in the editor's office of the Daily Planet, he had the calm clarity of reason and the knowledge of his Cadmus programming. When he was angry, anxious, afraid, or even just excited, all that went out the window, however, and he was no different than any other angry teenager that was just mad at the world.

Perhaps it was a fault with Cadmus' programming, or maybe the fault was with him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to bring you a chair to sit in?" Perry asked for what was probably the third time. Superboy was beginning to think he made the man nervous. After his initial offer of coffee he had continued to offer the boy milk, tea, water, a chair, a sandwich, or something to read while he waited. Superboy refused them all. He was actually enjoying himself studying the buzz and hum of activity outside the office. It reminded him of a been hive only much more poorly organized.

Finally, with a heavy sigh of relief, Perry stood up and yanked open the door to his office. "There you are, Kent!" The man shouted and pulled a second person into the office. "Kent, meet Superboy."

Superboy froze at the site of the man when Perry had just presented to him. His clothes were different, as was his posture, he wore thick horn-rimmed glasses that covered most of his face but there was no mistaking that face. He had seen it enough times in the mirror to know that it was his own face just a few more years along. Clark Kent was Superman!

But, no… that couldn't be right. Superman was an alien from a long gone planet. He lived in a secluded fortress in the Arctic Circle. Clark Kent, to the best of his knowledge, was a normal human newspaper reported.

"Hello, Super… boy." Kent said hesitantly as if unsure of what to make of him. He extended hand as if to shake. Superboy just looked at it questioningly. "Your predecessor saved me and my partner's life quite a few times."

Superboy looked up from the hand back into the face behind those huge and ridiculous glasses. A warm, friendly and open face smiled back at him. That was nothing like the Superman he knew. His Superman never smiled at him, his Superman wasn't warm and friendly, his Superman had never offered his hand for anything, not friendship, not help, not comfort, not even a greeting. This man was offering him a greeting and… what else had he said?

"My predecessor?" He asked.

"Superman." Kent answered as if this were the obvious answer. "You are his protégé, aren't you?"

"No." Superboy deadpanned. "No, I'm not his protégé, he wants nothing to do with me."

He once again found himself studying Kent's face. It was so much like his own, so much like Superman's. But if he really were Superman why ask stupid questions that he already knew the answers too? That made no sense. A look-alike then? A normal human who just by random happen-chance resembled his genetic-donor? Well, there was one easy way to test that right now. The man's hand was still extended in a greeting.

"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kent." He said and took the man's hand. He squeezed it slowly adding pressure slowly until he was almost at the point that he was sure a normal human could stand. If his grip didn't bother Kent then he was Superman, but if-

"Ahhhhhhrr!" Kent was on his knees howling in pain.

Superboy let go quickly and knelt at the man's side. "Sorry, I'm still trying to control my strength." He lied. "I had hoped Superman was willing to help me with that, but, well… as you can see…"

"I… see…" Kent panted while clutching his hand.

"You okay, Kent?" Perry asked from over the boy's shoulder.

"I… I'm okay." He gasped. "I just… could someone give me a hand up? Ooh, poor choice of words considering…"

Superboy lifted Kent back up by the armpits. Once on his feet he leaned against the office doorframe for support.

"You sure you okay, Kent?" Perry asked again. "S'not every day you get your hand nearly crushed by a Super."

"I'll be alright." The reporter assured his boss. "He stopped as soon as I said something." Then he turned to Superboy. "I think we should maybe give my editor his office back. Why don't we go over to my desk, Superboy."

There was the slightest bit of hesitation when Kent said his name, but the Boy of Steel couldn't decide if it was from the pain of having his hand nearly squeezed off or just general discomfort like what Superman always seemed to display towards him. Something about this whole situation was very surreal, almost like he were dreaming and none of this was actually happening.

Kent lead him to a desk by the window covered in papers which he then began shuffling around with his good hand to uncover the keyboard and mouse to a computer. "Now then, what can I do for you?"

Superboy didn't answer. He had come with an entire sales speech prepared to pitch his idea to Kent. But that was before he's met the man and seen how much like a nerdy Superman he looked. And now after nearly breaking the man's hand, he wasn't to sure if he even had the right to make offer a deal to the reporter.

"Is there something on my face?" Kent asked, his good hand traveling up the bridge of his nose.

"Huh? Oh, no." Superboy blinked, then amended. "Yes, you've got glasses on your face."

"Yes." Kent pushed his hideous horn-rimmed specks up the bridge of his nose. "I can't see a thing without them."

"Really?" Superboy asked skeptically.

"Really." Kent confirmed. "See, Superboy, when humans get older our bodies start to decline. One of the early things to go is vision."

"You don't look that old." He commented. "I'd put you still in your prime."

"Heh, yes. Sadly, I ruined my eyes early back in college." He shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Waiting until the last minuet to type-up a term paper in the dead of night can have detrimental effects on a person's eyes. Or at least, a human's eyes."

"I… see…" Superboy continued to scrutinize his face. They were so alike! He glanced around him at the other people in the office. Didn't any of them ever notice? They worked with him every day. Covering Superman was their main job; did no one notice the similarities between the two of them?

Or maybe people did notice but they knew that Kent and Superman were two different people because they worked with Kent every day and reported on Superman every day. The Man of Steel was fast, but even he couldn't be in two places at once. Maybe Kent really wasn't Superman and really was just an extreme and highly improbable coincidence that they just happened to look almost exactly alike. So, now Superboy had to decide if that's the explanation he was going to believe or if he was going to take his deal to another reporter, possibly even another paper all together.

"Mr. Kent," he finally said at length, "I have a proposition for you."

He reached into his pocket an pulled out the two Superman articles he had on him, the new clipping from that morning and the computer print out of the original interview with Lois Lane. He set them down on the man's desk for him to study.

"Your colleague, Lois Lane, owns a monopoly of sorts on Superman." He began. "He provides her with exclusive interviews, she makes him look good in the public eye, he makes her a journalistic marvel. I propose a similar arrangement between us."

"Excuse me?"

"Now, I understand that the exact relationship between Superman and Ms. Lane is less than professional…"

"_Excuse me!"_ Kent looked scandalized.

"… but I can assure you that while I'm young and relatively immature, I can conduct myself in a far more professional manner than my… predecessor, as you called him. So, are you in?"

"Uh, what?"

"Would you like me to repeat?"

"Uh, no. I mean… why?"

Superboy heaved a sigh. "At the risk of sounding like a whiny prat… I want attention." He said bluntly. "I was speaking with the other members of my team and Kid Flash suggested that try to grab Superman's attention through less aggressive means. Every time I show up to help him it always ends badly."

"I… see…" Kent looked flabbergasted. "And why do you want Superman's attention?"

"Because…" Here Superboy found that it was difficult to answer. Not because he didn't know how to put his feelings into words but because he wasn't yet sure how comfortable he felt sharing these feelings with a complete stranger. Finally, he settled on just telling Kent the bare bones and if they developed a better report later on he would elaborate. "Because he's the only other person in the world like me."

…


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Four:

Batman had Watchtower duty that evening and all looked quiet on the eastern seaboard. It was for this reason that he was surprised to receive a call from Superman's channel. With more curiosity than concern the Batman reached for the comm. panel and answered the call.

"This is Watchtower. Go ahead."

"Bruce, you impertinent scheming meddling ass!" Clark's voice hissed over the channel with quiet venom that left the Batman at a loss as to what he could have done recently to set the Man of Steel off. "What give you the right to send the boy to my work? _To Clark Kent's work!_"

'The boy', Batman assumed referred to the clone he had been trying to convince Superman to take responsibility for and claim as his own son -Conner Kent, the Superboy. So, the boy had apparently gone to the Daily Planet looking for Superman… or he had figured out Clark's civilian identity and gone to the Planet looking for Kent.

"What makes you think I had anything to do with it?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" Clark snapped back. "He's been following a consistent pattern almost since the other kids freed him. Now he just suddenly up and out of the blue wants to change his tactics for trying to get to know Superman! I _know_ you had something to do with this! You're the only one sneaky enough to come up with it."

In all honesty this was the first he was hearing of it. Bruce hadn't involved himself in the relationship (or lack there of) between Conner and Clark since their last conversation at the diner all those months back. He figured the harder he tried to push Clark towards the boy, the harder he would pull away, and so the Batman had decided to leave well enough alone. Apparently, without his meddling Clark hadn't made any forward movement on his end and Conner had gotten tired of waiting. Bruce was actually rather proud of the kid for taking the initiative.

"And what is his new tactic?" He asked at length.

"He…" Here Clark paused as if unsure. "He wants me to interview him for the Planet. He wants Clark Kent to interview him like Lois interviews me… uh, Superman, I mean. I… I don't think he knows that I'm… But when he first saw me at the Planet I saw the recognition on his face. He recognized Clark as Superman, but… He's acting like he doesn't."

Bruce tapped his chin with gloved fingers of his right hand, considering. "Are you gonna do it?"

"I… I donno." Clark's voice over the comm took on a sober undertone, as if this decision was a heavy one that required more forethought and tact than most. "If he already knows I'm Superman, then I don't see what he expects to gain from this… I told him that I needed some time to prepare, do a little background research and draft up some questions for the interview. Its not a lie, that's what I always do before an interview." That last line sounded almost defensive, as if the Man of Steel were trying to justify himself to the Dark Knight.

"And Superman never lies." Bruce smiled to himself.

…

It was well past one in the morning by the time the Super-cycle returned to Mt. Justice. Its rider sighed as the shadow of the hangar passed over him, blotting out the dim light of the crescent moon, the dimness exercising him of the identity of 'Superboy' and returning him to simply being 'Connor'.

Conner dismounted and took a step or two back to give Sphere the space she needed to change back to her neutral form. "Thanks girl." He said, giving her convex surface an affectionate pat. "You did allot of flying tonight."

The alien globe gave a trill of agreement before her tone changed to one of assertive reassurance.

"Maybe…" He replied, guessing at what she was trying to communicate. "Maybe I'll be able to fly on my own some day. But I'll still take you out."

Behind him Conner's superior hearing detected the distinct sound of four padded paws accompanied by a forlorn whine approaching. He turned around to face a very abandoned looking Wolf entering the hangar.

"Hey, you." Conner knelt down to greet the beast on eye level. "Sorry for taking off on ya, buddy."

He had thought that bringing a giant cobra-venom enhanced predator into a metropolitan office building would not be a good way to make a first impression and considering the way the night had gone, he had probably guessed right. Wolf's presence would not have improved matters during his brief brush with Superman and the editor of the Daily Planet, Perry White, probably would have fainted if Conner… Superboy… er, whoever he was at the time, had brought him in with him. As for Kent… Well, Conner was still trying to figure that man out.

He looked so much like his genetic-donor, yet the man had none of his presence, character or even basic coordination. The reporter was gawky, clumsy, and awkward. Superman was graceful, fluent, and adroit. Kent was timid and soft-spoken. Superman was commanding and assertive. Even their postures were different. They looked almost identical (save for the glasses) yet Connor could not imagine two people that were more different. Maybe it was just an extreme and bizarre coincidence that the two resembled each other so greatly.

It was with these thoughts in his mind that Connor passed through the hangar into the base-proper, the ever-loyal Wolf following at his heals.

As he passed through the common area he noted that Wally's crumbs from earlier still had not been cleaned up. Conner suppressed the growl of frustration that welled up in the back of his throat. He considered dragging the sloppy speedster out of bed and shoving his nose in it like he'd seen Robin and Artemis doing to Wolf before he'd been housebroken. But he decided against it. If he did that, all it would achieve would be an indignant and disgruntled Wally and then a lecture on what was and was not appropriate behavior when resolving disputes between peers. He would make Wally clean up in the morning.

Conner wandered into the kitchen and checked the 'fridge for any leftovers from whatever the others might have had for dinner. His chest swelled with the knowledge that they had thought of him even while he was gone when he saw the tupperware containers sitting on the middle shelf. A note had been taped to the foremost one and said in M'gann's neat handwriting,

'_Didn't know if you'd eat out or not. Saved this for you. Had to beat Wally off it with a stick –that's an Earth expression I learned I hope I used it right. I didn't actually beat him with anything. _

'_Just heat it in the microwave for four minuets. Bon appetite._

'_-M'gann'_

Conner withdrew the containers from the fridge and opened them to reveal some kind of meat, a mixture of limp soggy vegetables and mashed potatoes. He forwent the formality of heating them up in the microwave and ate his fill of the cold food strait out of the containers. When he was satisfied he replaced what hadn't been eaten back in the refrigerator and washed the emptied containers in the sink.

Or rather, he _tried_ to wash them. At one point he ended up pressing the sponge clean though the flimsy plastic container, effectively ruining it. He sighed and tossed it in the waste bin. It wasn't the first time he's broken a dish while trying to clean, that was one of the reasons why M'gann usually handled the task and delegated the drying the putting away of items to him. That was something he could do without breaking things accidentally (most of the time).

Once the other, unbroken, container had been dried he replaced it in one of the lower cupboards and exited the kitchen intent on calling it a night.

As he once again passed the common area his eyes once again fell on Wally's crumbs. "I'll make him clean them up tomorrow." He muttered to himself.

But no sooner had the Boy of Steel turned from the mess than he found himself veering off course and instead of heading for his own suit was bound towards the small hall closet where they stored their cleaning supplies. Conner withdrew a small hand-vac and returned to the common room.

"I'm just putting this here so Wally will get the hint." He said aloud, placing the small vacuum on the couch.

He turned away again. Then turned back.

"Aw, to hell with it!" Conner groaned and grabbing the hand-vac, knelt down to clean it up himself.

When he was done, he stood back to examine his work. Spotless. That was how it looked. Clean and pristine, as it should be. He turned back around to, finally, retire to his own room but once again paused in his steps when he noticed someone blocking his path.

/'_M'gann!_'/ He thought. /_'Sorry, did I wake you?_'/

/_'Yes. But not with that.'_/ She waved dismissively as the small hand-vacuum he held. /_'Something's troubling you._'/

The Martian girl moved forward to stoke her hand down his cheek affectionately. /_'Wanna talk about it? Or would you rather I drop it and stay out of your head for a while?_'/

Conner grabbed her hand before she could withdraw it and drew it over his lips, kissing her palm. /_'No, its fine. I just… I met with Clark Kent tonight._'/

/_'Well, that's good. That's what you meant to do, wasn't it?_'/

He encircled her waist with his arm and drew her body up against his own. The proximity stirred that odd feeling of heated excitement that he'd been feeling quite allot lately, but at the moment he wanted the comfort her closeness offered more than he was worried about the strange sensation.

/_'Yeah, that's what I meant to do, but…'_/ He hesitated. /_'I think… I think Kent might actually be Superman. I mean, Superman's civilian guise might actually be Clark Kent.'_/

/'Really?'/ M'gann thought back skeptically. /_'But I thought Superman lived in an isolated ice fortress in the arctic circle. What would he need a civilian guise for?_'/

/_'I donno._'/ The Boy of Steel admitted.

The thought was so heavy with misgivings and doubt that M'gann felt it was better to change the subject. /_'Did you do the interview, though?_'/

/_'Kent said he needs time to prepare._'/ His answer came back carrying that same weight of misgiving. /_'Anyway, its late._'/

/_'Right._'/ She turned and he walked her to her room, their hands intertwined.

At her door he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a soft but ardent kiss that elicited a soft moan form her and made Conner's stomach do a little back-flip of excitement. Her arms encircled his waist when he tried to pull away and she deepened the kiss, her lips parting enough for her tongue to slither out and lick timidly at his lips, requesting entrance.

It was then that he really did pull away; taking a step back, pulling at the hold she had on him. His body felt hot all over, his loins and groin were tight with a feeling he could only describe as 'need' (thought Conner wasn't sure what exactly it was he 'needed') and his face was flushed a bright shade that was unmistakable even in the dim light. He blinked at M'gann hoping she would explain what this effect she had on him was and why he felt it so strongly.

But M'gann did not explain. She dropped her arms in disappointment and apologized over a psychic thread. /_'Sorry. I didn't mean to push you like that. Have a good night, Conner. Sleep well._'/

He didn't know what she meant by that either but before he could ask the Martian girl had already closed her door, leaving him standing out in the hall hot and flushed and needing… _something_, but unsure of what.

With considerable effort he pushed these feelings aside and finally retired to his own room. Conner took comfort in the stark order of the place. The walls were bare and unadorned, his bed (perfectly made) was fixed at a right angle from the left wall wile his desk (also perfectly organized) lay against the right wall at a parallel angle, his chair pushed in all the way so that it did not block the path between bed and desk that lead to his room's adjoining bathroom. The bathroom door was precisely seventy-six point two centimeters in width (as were all the doors in the base) and so he'd arranged his furniture to leave a breath of seventy-six point two for all walkways as well.

Adjacent to the bathroom door were the sliding doors of his closet. It was to here that he now made his way. He slid one side open and, leaning against the wall for balance, removed his boots and placed the pair neatly in the back next to several other pairs of boots, the mates pressed up against each other, the pairs each separated by five centimeters of space. Neat and orderly.

It was then that Conner climbed into bed, fully clothed. He pulled back the sheets and laid himself out beneath them. Flat on his back, arms at his sides, the Boy of Steel closed his eyes and… slept.

…

When Conner awoke the following morning he knew it had been the latest he'd slept since leaving Cadmus. The clock on his bedside table told him it was a little past six in the morning. Thought his suit didn't have any windows he knew the sun would already be up. With a soft groan the Boy of Steel rolled out of bed.

Wolf gave a shrill whine of protest when Conner stepped on the creature's furry white tail and he knelt down to offer apologetic pets. The domesticated wolf licked his face, accepting the pets and let his master know that there were no hard feelings. Conner patted him on the head one more time and stood to make the bed. He had woken up late and was already behind schedule.

After the making of the bed was a shower, after the shower teeth and hair got brushed and combed respectively, the clothing he'd worn the previous day (and subsequently slept in) got thrown in the hamper, fresh clothing was put on.

M'gann was already making breakfast when he passed through the common area. He muttered a subdued "Good morning" to her. He felt his cheeks color at the memory of their encounter the previous night and he felt the need to comment on it, though he didn't know what to say.

"The others are still sleeping." She said over her stove. "You're up late. But then again, you got to bed late."

"So did you." He reminded her.

"I got some sleep before you came back."

Right. She had mentioned that he'd woken her with his… _discontent_ over his meeting with Kent. "I, um… I'm going out to get the paper. Do you want me to pick up anything else?"

"Snacks." She said quickly. "Enough for the rest of us to have something to munch on before Wally inhales it all."

"Right." He nodded. "Something that's not very crumbly or messy."

"Whatever you want." She smiled.

…

Half past six was late for Conner, but the rest of the world seemed to consider it to be 'early'. After getting his two newspapers the teenage superhero soon found that not many stores were open so early in the morning.

There were the newsstands, the convenience stores, the coffee shops, cafes and doughnut stores. But everything else, such as perhaps a grocery where he could procure mass quantities of snacks, did not open until ten. That was shamelessly late in Conner's opinion. Half the day would be gone by then! How did businesses manage to stay in business that way? Being closed for half the day. Ridiculous.

Reluctantly, the Boy of Steel decided on the convenience store as whatever he got from there would most likely be easier to take back on a motorcycle than doughnuts or whatever fragile pastries might be found in a café. He filled a bag with chips, candy bars, and soda. The snacks were paid for with cash from the small allowance the JLA allot him and M'gann for personal expenses and he wondered if he could get the rest of the team to pitch in a little to reimburse them. The others all had parents or legal guardians to provide for their needs. He and M'gann lived off of Justice League charity.

Conner pulled back into the hangar just as Black Canary zetta'd onto base.

…

A grunt of frustration escaped his lips as Canary floored him for what was probably the third time in their spar. Conner groaned as the training circle projected, **Superboy : FAIL** just in case it hadn't be obvious enough.

"Your mind's somewhere else." Black Canary admonished him. "When you're in a fight, regardless of whether or not if real lives are on the line or its just for training, you need to be focused on the here and now."

"I know!" Conner snapped back and leapt to his feet. He reassumed a defensive posture and invited the fishnet-clad drill instructor to attack him.

He had been doing so well of late too. Ever since the incident with the Amazo robot he's been taking his training sessions with Canary more seriously, paying closer attention to both the moves and techniques she demonstrated as well as her explanations and lectures. Cadmus had taught him tactics and strategy, but Canary was teaching him how to actually apply them in live situations (something he was still having trouble with).

She held up a hand. "Take a breather, Conner. Kaldur, you're up."

Conner stepped out of the circle as the Atlantien stepped in. They tapped each other on the shoulder in a sort of 'tag out, tag in' gesture. Superboy leaned against a wall to watch his teammate and leader face off against his mentor… er, one of his mentors… the mentor he shared with the others…? Conner sometimes found it difficult to define what Canary was to him in comparison to the others.

They all had mentors of their own that were separate from the ones that volunteered to aid with Young Justice, mentors that were excusive to just them. Kaldur had Aquaman, his king. Wally had the Flash, his uncle by marriage. Artemis had Green Arrow, whom she called her uncle, but aside from the blond hair Conner couldn't see much resemblance between them (not that he had ever seen GA with his mask off). Robin had Batman, whom he lived with. And M'gann had Martian Manhunter, her uncle. But Conner had no one. He had the general mentors that they all shared, but no personal mentor, no exclusive mentor. It sometimes made him feel more like an obligation to the JLA rather than a contributing member.

Robin appeared next to him. The Boy Wonder's mischievous grin from the previous night had vanished and was instead replaced with an air of idle curiosity. "So… how'd it go…?"

Conner took a moment's pause to glare at his young companion. He had been the one to suggest Kent specifically, did he send Conner there knowing that Kent was Superman, or Superman's look-alike? Had it been an attempt on the boy's part to get the two to sit down together finally, or was it just a mean prank? Or, did Robin, like everyone else whom worked with Kent seemed to, just not see the resemblance between them at all? No, Robin was to observant and clever for that last one to be a real possibility.

If it had been an attempt to get them together, it had worked… in a manner of speaking. Proceeding under the assumption that Kent was Superman, Conner still wasn't sure if it had been for better or for worse that they'd met in a non-crisis setting. Following under the assumption that they were two separate people and their resemblance was just a coincidence, Conner decided that it had gone well considering he had taken the man completely by surprise and unprepared. At least he hadn't said 'no' out right. He had asked for time.

But then again, Batman had said that all Superman needed was time also.

"Oh, come on. It couldn't have gone that badly." Robin whined after Conner still did not respond. "Well, did you at least get your interview?"

"Next week." Was the Boy of Steel's only reply.

…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Five:

It was late Sunday night when Batman returned from the Watchtower, so late that it was more accurate to call it Monday morning.

He found Dick asleep at the Bat Cave's main computer console fast asleep. A minimized tab on the bottom of the display told Bruce that the Boy Wonder was running his Sentry program to keep an eye on the city while the Dark Knight was away fulfilling his League duties, but the main part of the screen was taken up by a simple word document. The boy's head was resting on the V, B and space-bar keys of the keyboard and so the document was mostly filled with "vb vb vb v b v b vb".

Bruce leaned his boy back in the chair, up and away from console. Thank goodness Dick wasn't the type to drool in his sleep. The boy gave a groan and muttered drowsily in his sleep but did not wake up.

Bruce deleted the excess characters from the document his little bird had been working on and found it be a history report on Progressivism and the Gilded Age. He smiled to himself, proud of his boy. Even balancing both his commitment to Young Justice with his duties here in Gotham, the Boy Wonder still managed to get his schoolwork done and maintain a grade point average of three point seven. Bruce saved the document and transferred the file to Robin's wrist computer; the boy could retrieve it from there at his leisure.

That done, he lifted his foster son into his arms and carried him out of the Cave in to the house proper. Up the stairs and down a hallway, the Dark Knight deposited his little birdy on the boy's bed. He removed Dick's cape from his shoulders and took off his mask, he then knelt down to unfasten the boy's boots; the rest of the costume he'd let him sleep in. Alfred might give him (maybe both of them) a lecture in the morning about costumes in the house, but Bruce didn't much feel like waking the boy up just to make him change into PJs and go back to sleep. He only had a few hours until he had to wake up again for school, anyway.

It was as he was working on the boy's second boot that he stirred to the point of waking.

"'S'what's goin' on?" He slurred groggily. Then slightly more alert. "You're home!"

Bruce tensed momentarily when the boy's arms encircled his shoulders, as he always did when being hugged unexpectedly, but quickly relaxed into his son's embrace. He let go of the boy's boot and patted his interlocked arms affectionately.

"So, how was Watchtower duty?" Dick asked. He let go of his foster father and mentor and wriggled his foot out of the man's grip so as to take off his own boot. He wasn't a child anymore; he didn't need daddy to help him dress.

Bruce smiled to himself. Clark had said that he was the only one sneaky enough to think of sending Conner to the Daily Planet looking for Clark Kent, but that wasn't true. Many in the Justice League overlooked Robin and the other members of Young Justice, still thinking of them as nothing more than just 'side-kicks' and the YJ as their little 'club'. Few Leaguers (specifically, the Leaguers without protégés of their own) forgot that the kids were heroes in training, and just as clever (or sneaky) as their mentors.

"I got an interesting call." He told the boy.

"Cool. Was it full of 'aster, or heavy on dis'?" Dick pulled off his boot and rolled off his bed to throw the pair in his closet before selecting a pair of PJ pants and a t-shirt.

Bruce ignored the odd wordplay. That was one aspect of his protégé's personality that the Dark Knight often found himself at a loss as to how to reply to. So, he mostly just ignored it. "It was from Superman."

A brief pause in pulling off his Robin suit. "Oh?"

"Mm, apparently Conner showed up at the Daily Planet looking for Superman's civilian persona."

"Well, Con was gone almost all of Saturday." Dick nodded, the hesitation evaporating out of his motions as he pulled the PJ pants over his legs. "Good for him, taking some initiative."

Bruce nodded. "I'm also a little surprised. Its not the sort of thing I've come to expect from him." A sidelong glance at Dick. "It makes me wonder from where he could have gotten the idea…"

"Well, KF did say he needed to change his tactics." The t-shirt was pulled over his head and the boy hopped into bed, shimmying down under the covers.

"Well, wherever he got the idea from…" The Dark Knight tucked the covers up around Dick's chin. "Maybe that person should also suggest that he find an adult friend to confide in. On personal issues, of course, no JLA or YJ issues, that's for Black Canary or myself."

"Personal issues?" Dick raised one dark eyebrow.

"Yes, like school… or girls." Bruce nodded. "Normal teenager stuff."

"You know Conner and M'gann are together, right?"

The Batman leaned down to kiss his foster son on the forehead. "I know everything."

…

Conner both liked and disliked school days. He liked them because they were scheduled and structured. They followed the same predictable pattern every day with only the rare assembly, fire drill, or short day to interrupt the routine. He liked the routine. That was one of the things about Cadmus that Conner reluctantly had to admit he almost missed.

He hated the place, hated the scientist that created him and the gnomes that controlled him, but one thing that Cadmus had had that Conner quickly found was difficult to find living as a free person was structure. At Cadmus there had been an order to things. The order broke down the large and vastly complicated secret laboratory and made it simple to understand and easier to live within.

As a free person living at Mt. Justice, strict patterns such as he was used to at Cadmus were not placed on him. Training was required, but Young Justice was not Black Canary's only commitment. She was still a member of the Justice League as well as a private citizen with a life outside of crime fighting. The YJ's mandatory training sessions with her did not follow a set schedule. Just like their missions were also not regular. Some times Batman would deploy them on several missions in a row, other times he would go long weeks without even stopping by the cave. In the early weeks following his escape from Cadmus Conner had found it difficult to adjust due to the inconsistencies.

But after he'd established a pattern of his own (as far as mornings went, at least) he began to improve and then when September rolled around and the JLA said he was required to attend public school he improved by leaps and bounds.

But as much as the structured schedule of Happy Harbor high had helped him adjust to life as a free person, he couldn't help but also hate the damn place.

As much as public school was an educational institution it was also a social fray, and Conner was perhaps one of the least skilled people on the planet when it came to socializing with the average non-super powered citizen. They discussed topics that Conner either didn't know about or didn't care about and when they realized that he wasn't up on the latest internet meme or didn't care about what celebrity had worn what outfit to what party they would laugh and tell him he needed to 'get with it' or 'buy a life'.

It was for these reasons that whenever he didn't have the excuse of trying to pay attention in class to ignore his fellows, Conner would stick close to M'gann like a loyal puppy dog. He was Megan's cute but freakish boyfriend and that worked for him. He would follow her lead in social situations and she was always there to correct him over a psychic thread whenever he made a mistake or flat out prevent him from a dangerous slip-up.

For the most part he enjoyed his classes. Thanks to his Cadmus programming he excelled at math and science. His knowledge of history was extensive, however he didn't do so well in the class due to his inability to empathize with cultures and people that were long dead and part of the classes purpose (his teacher explained one time holding him after class) was to understand people's reasons behind the events they caused so as to learn from the past and not make the same mistakes in the future. To this Conner had informed the teacher that what history really taught was that humans were incapable of learning from their mistakes and he rambled off six examples of different political leaders make the same mistakes as the predecessors without learning a damn thing.

He'd left his teacher staring after him in awe, when he left and that made him feel rather good about himself for some reason. Conner imagined that if it weren't for his inability to understand people, he could be teaching the class (not that he'd want to).

Physical education was one of his most hated and most difficult classes. He never knew how much of his super strength to pull back and he usually either ended up pulling back to much and looking like a weak little kitten (for which his classmates mocked him) or he didn't pull back enough and ended up breaking something. Luckily, Happy Harbor high (like many schools in America at the time) was deplorably under-funded and so much of their equipment was old anyway. The tennis ball shaped hole in his racket was written off as old strings that had just been to worn from use, the splintered floorboards in the gym were proclaimed to be from a termite infestation, etc. He really wished someone could help him manage his strength better.

Combat and strategy training with Canary was great and all, but what good was a well thought out strategy if you didn't have full control of your own capabilities. He really needed one-on-one training with another hero with super strength. Ideally he wanted Superman, but his genetic-parent wanted nothing to do with him and since Superman was a founding member of the Justice League and a shining pillar of truth, justice and the American way (his words) the rest of the League followed the kryptonian's example when it came to Conner. They politely ignored him.

English was perhaps his worst subject. Cadmus had given him only a cursory knowledge of classic literature as it influenced modern culture. This was how Conner viewed and understood works such as Niccolo Machiavelli's _The Prince_, or Hitler's _Mein Kampf. _But they did not read those in Sophomore English. They read things like _The Scarlet Letter_ by Nathaniel Hawthorne, a story about a married woman whom has a child from an illicit affair. Conner just couldn't understand how a book like that could be viewed as having any academic value. It was basically a… what was the word Wally used…? 'Chick-flick'?

However, there was one part of school that Conner really, _really_ enjoyed and it had nothing to do with how structured the system was, or how much more knowledgeable than his teachers he was.

In the time between when school would let out for the day and when he and M'gann would head home was cheerleader practice. Conner found that he derived great pleasure from watching M'gann –Magan practice their routines with her teammates while clad in her yellow and black uniform with its scandalously short skirt. It was much shorter than the skirts of her other civilian outfits as well as her Miss Martian costume. It just barely managed to cover the alluring feminine curve of her posterior and showed off more of her thighs than Conner would have though was legal considering they were minors.

He didn't voice that particular concern, however, for fear that M'gann would alter the bio-fabric uniform to a more respectable length.

Watching M'gann practice her cheers, doing her flips and splits (oh, god, the splits!) it gave Conner that same heated feeling he got when she kissed him or pressed her body up against his, only accompanied by that heat was also the desire to touch her in ways that would most definitely be considered inappropriate. He wanted to run his palm over the curve of her ass, rub his hands up the inside of her thighs and feel the pulsing warmth he imagine he'd find at their juncture.

But these actions would be violations of personal space and were indicative of a lack of respect towards the one whom was the object of said desires. Conner did not want to disrespect M'gann. On the contrary, the pseudo-kryptonian had the utmost respect for his girlfriend and the last thing he wanted to do was violate her personal space, her trust and her faith in him. He didn't want to alienate her; Conner was rather confident in the belief that he wanted her to be with him always and frightening her away from him with infelicitous advances was not the way to convince her to stay.

But then he would remember her own actions during their good night kiss on Saturday night and wonder about her behavior towards him. He rather liked how firmly she had pulled him against her, how she had deepened their kiss and her soft moan of pleasure, the sound of which had driven him into a state of mind-fogging anticipation (anticipation for what, however he hadn't been sure). But he had pulled away when she had tried to stick her tongue in his mouth. It hadn't been because the action had disturbed him, he was more confused than actually bothered by it. But Conner was fairly sure that her action would have fallen under the heading of 'inappropriate behavior' right next to his desire to touch her more intimate places.

What confused him was why M'gann, sweet, gentle, innocent, eager to please, M'gann would make such a forward advance, and also, why he didn't seem to be bothered by it. Things were considered 'inappropriate' because they bothered people, right? But he wasn't bothered by it. Did that mean that it wasn't actually inappropriate or that he had a flaw in his programming? Conner was already painfully aware of his physical flaws, he wasn't as strong as Superman, neither did he have his genetic-parent's heat vision, X-ray vision, super speed, ice breath or the ability to fly. If there were flaws in his physical design then it stood to reason that his education and programming were also flawed.

After practice Conner carried M'gann's books for her and they made their way back to the Cave together. Once inside, the Martian girl prepared some after-school snacks for the two of them to share (usually something simple like apple slices and cinnamon) and homework was done immediately.

This was the fashion in which their weekdays (and by extension the school week) was passed.

…

Saturday morning rolled back around and Conner woke before the sun as he always did and began his regular morning regiment as he always did and left to get his newspapers as he always did. But this time he did not take his ordinary motorcycle, nor did he return to the Cave afterwards to have breakfast with M'gann. Instead the Boy of Steel left a note informing the Martian girl of where he was going, that he planned to be out all day and that he had his YJ comm. on him incase Batman showed up with a mission and they needed to reach him.

That done, Conner went to fetch his newspapers, grabbed a scone at a local coffee shop and sped off on Sphere towards Metropolis, leaving the persona of Conner Kent behind and donning that of Superboy.

…

Kent and Lane were just getting in when Superboy pulled the Super-cycle alongside the Daily Planet looking for their window. Though the glass for the upper floors had been reinforced, his superior hearing did manage to pick up a bit of their conversation. Apparently, the cuts on Lane's hands were healing just fine and she didn't need Kent to carry her coffee for her (and the fact that he kept insisting that he should annoyed her greatly). Kent would brush it off saying that it was no trouble, he was just trying to be a gentleman. Lane shot back calling him a 'mother-hen' and that she didn't know how people did things back at 'the farm' but here in the city women carried their own drinks and opened their own doors! (The doors thing seemed random to Superboy.)

Not interested in their conversation in the least, the Boy of Steel tapped lightly on the window to get their attention. When they both turned he breathed onto the glass and wrote 'Roof?' in the resulting fog. Kent nodded slowly, a sober expression on his face that gave Superboy the impression that the man thought he was about to begin a difficult and arduous task. It was just supposed to be asking questions and writing down answers, right? That's what an interview was, right?

Over the past week Superboy had given the matter of Clark Kent and Superman and how much the two resembled each other a great deal of thought. He looked up famous look-alike cases as well as statistics on the phenomenon. Considering how different the two behaved, not just strait behavior but also their mannerisms, posture, even their accents when they spoke were slightly different. Superman spoke with a clear northern American accent with just the slightest hint of an eastern coast city dweller to it, that made since seeing as how he did most of his hero'ing in Metropolis which was an east coast city. Kent on the other hand had more of a mid-western accent when he spoke. It seemed faint when Superboy had last spoken to Kent, probably because he's been living in Metropolis for so long that it had faded a bit, but Kent was definitely from the mid-west while Superman was from the American north-east (by way of outer space, of course).

In his mind, Superboy had reconciled them to be two completely different people.

That was, at least, until Kent walked out onto the roof and he got a second good look at the man's face. Hells, bells, and buckets! If it weren't for those damnable glasses he would be the spitting image of Superboy's genetic-parent!

"Whoo-ee! Its cold out here!" The reporter commented as he repositioned a file he carried under his arm so that he could hitch the collar of his coat higher up on his neck. "I donno how you can stand it in those short sleeves."

Superboy just shrugged. "I'll probably switch to something warmer when the weather turns snowy." He said. "Hot and cold don't really bother me all that much… just in extremes."

"I see." Kent set his file down and took out a tape recorder, and note pad. "Well then, Superboy, should we get started?"

The reporter sat down on the concrete railing that ran the perimeter of the roof and the Boy of Steel noted that he didn't seem to show any fear or nervousness at sitting right on the edge of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Of course, he reflected, people in Metropolis were so used to Superman being there rescue them, the people of the city (Kent included) probably didn't have much reason to fear heights anymore.

Superboy also sat on the railing, straddling it so that he could face Kent as they talked.

Kent switch on his tape recorder and placed it between them. He then consulted his notepad. "Okay, lets start with some easy stuff. How old are you?"

"I am eight month old." He answered dutifully, then quickly added. "But I resemble the physical age of sixteen years. You see my gestation process ended in late March, and then I spent sixteen weeks in my pod at Cadmus undergoing an accelerated growth at the ratio of one year to one week. I had been in the pod for sixteen weeks and resembled the physical age of sixteen years when Robin, Aqualad and Kid Flash discovered me."

Kent seemed to pause at a loss at that answer. What had he been expecting, Superboy wondered. How old had the reporter thought he was? And why did the answer seem to unnerve him?

Kent cleared his throat. "So you're not Superman's son?"

"No. Where'd you get that idea?" That was a somewhat random question. "I was made from a DNA sample taken from Superman. I'm his clone. He's my genetic-parent, but he's not my 'father'."

The reporter seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding in and Superboy wondered what he was so nervous about. It wasn't like he was actually doing much work; just reading some questions off his notepad while the tape recorder took his answers. What was so difficult or nerve wracking about that? Or maybe it was because he was talking to an artificial person that made him uncomfortable? Superboy had already deduced that he came from the mid-west which was also known as the 'Bible Belt' and they had some very particular opinions about creating other life through artificial means. Perhaps Kent viewed him as an unnatural crime against nature and Cadmus as playing god?

"You seem very articulate and well educated for someone who's only eight months old."

"Yes." The Boy of Steel nodded. "While in my accelerated growth pod I underwent a programmed education. Cadmus has these other genomorphs called 'G-gnomes' or just gnomes whom have telepathic abilities. Over the sixteen weeks before my discovery they uploaded me with a very extensive education. I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of math, science and history with peripheral knowledge of psychology, classic literature and various other social sciences."

Kent once again seemed to be momentarily stunned by his answer. But really, what had the reported expected? How many ways could a creature learn to speak and behave at his level within less than a year of actual life?

"Why… um, why did Cadmus make you?" There was the slightest of tremors in his voice when he asked that, as if he were afraid of the answer.

"I…" Here Superboy found that he also was a little wary of his answer. "I was lead to believe that I was meant to be a hero like he is -Superman, I mean. That I was created to be a spare or back-up Superman if he ever died or abandoned his cause. But… but after the others found me, Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad, I discovered that that wasn't true." Superboy looked at his hands, he suddenly felt much more like Conner Kent the awkward and unsure high school kid. "No… I didn't 'discover' that it wasn't true. I think… I think deep down in the back of my mind, somewhere the gnomes couldn't touch, I always knew that something wasn't right… I just needed Aqualad's words to make me realize it."

He turned his gaze over the Metropolis skyline, wondering if he might see Superman flying off in the distance, patrolling his city. The boy wondered if his genetic-parent was close by and if he were within kryptonian earshot and listening to his interview with Kent. He wondered what effect this article (when it was finally published) would have on the Man of Steel or how it might effect his perceptions of his clone.

"I really admire Superman." Superboy said at length. "In my pod, the gnomes also taught me allot about him. I know his stats, I know the exact date he appeared in Metropolis, I know he's been hero'ing for twelve years, I know his weaknesses –they're the same as mine… But beyond all that, I… I want to know the _man_ that is Superman because… Well, because he's me. Or rather, I was supposed to be him. I'm a free person now, I can choose who and what I want to be, I don't _have_ to replace Superman –and I don't want to. But I do want to stand at his side. I want to be his back-up when he needs it. I want to be his apprentice, his protégé. I don't want to _be_ him, but I do want to be _like_ him. He's the only other kryptonian left and I just… I guess there's a small sense of camaraderie to be found in that."

"But that's not true." Kent said quickly, almost as if he'd been waiting for the chance to broach the subject. He retrieved the file he'd brought with him and handed it to Superboy. "After you left last weekend I did a bit of looking up on Superman's past battles and found that you and he are not, in fact, the only kryptonians left. There's been Mon-El, Sodam Yat, criminals like General Zod from a place called the Phantom Zone, there was a bottle city called Kandor that contained allot of kryptonians and a planet called Daxam… Superboy, are you okay?"

Conner felt less and less like a Superboy and more and more like an ordinary stupid kid as he leafed through the file of old Superman articles while Kent listed off the names he read. So many. There were so many other kryptonians that he had never even known about, Cadmus had never taught him about. But something about the way Kent was showing him this… it almost felt like he was trying to invalidate Conner's reason for wanting Superman's attention and acceptance. Almost like he were trying to justify the Man of Steel's neglect and give him an out.

"How many of these people are actually _on Earth_, Mr. Kent?" Superboy asked.

"Well…" The reported hesitated.

"'Well…'" Superboy echoed. "Yeah. That's what I thought." He felt the familiar and almost ever-present feelings of mingled resentment and longing towards Superman well up within him and he tried to squish them back down. As much as Kent looked like his genetic-parent, they were two different people and Kent did not deserve a tongue-lashing meant for the Man of Steel.

"Should we continue?" The reporter asked.

"Do you _want_ to continue?" The boy shot back.

"I've upset you."

"Well, _yeah_!" Superboy snarled. "You basically just told me I have no right to want to get to know the man I was made from just because he's not the only one like me. How do you _think_ I'd feel!"

"That's not what I meant!"

Superboy got up off the ledge and walked back over to Sphere whom promptly transformed herself back into the Super-cycle. As he climbed onto the bike he gave glared at Kent and snarled one last parting barb. "I may be an artificial person, Kent, but that doesn't mean that my emotional capacity is any less than that of a normal human's or kryptonian's. But that's something that neither you nor Superman seem to get." He revved the Super-cycle. "I'm keeping your file, by the way."

And he sped off.

Clark Kent was left standing on the roof. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stall an on-coming stress headache.

"I meant to show you you weren't alone." He muttered to the empty rooftop.

…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Six:

The rest of the team had already assembled in the Cave by the time Conner returned to Mt. Justice. He stormed into the common area, glaring daggers at everyone.

"Please tell me we've got a mission!" He snarled.

The others paused in whatever it was they were doing to turn towards their super-powered and super-pissed-off comrade.

"We thought you'd be out all day." Kaldur's words were that of a statement, but he asked it in the tone of a question.

"What happened?" Robin asked, coming forward from the group.

"None of your goddamned business!" Conner snapped at him before storming from the room and barricading himself in his suit. He threw Kent's file of other kryptonians on his desk and flopped down on his bed with a huff. Then he stood back up and repositioned the file on his desk so that it was perfectly centered with none of the pages protruding from it. Then he laid back down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

/_'Conner, are you okay?_'/ M'gann's telepathic voice drifted into his mind without bothering to pass through his ears.

/_'Leave me alone, M'gann._'/

He felt her telepathic presence pull back and he was afraid she'd taken his mental out-lash to mean that it was her telepathic powers that bothered him. He had been so adverse to her telepathy early on in the first few week following his escape from Cadmus, always reacting in anger whenever she had tried to communicate with him over mental threads and even though he no longer had the same aversion to it anymore, M'gann always seemed to approach him with an uncommon level of caution whenever he was already upset. Almost as if he were afraid her powers would set off one of his yet many unresolved triggers.

There was a light, almost hesitant knock on his door and her physical voice drifted hesitantly through, "Will you talk to me if we speak like this?"

"Its not the telepathy that's the problem!" He shouted back to her. Then felt bad, fearing she might interpret that as his way of saying it was her that was the problem. With a heavy sigh, Conner stood and crossed the small room to open the door. She was standing in the hall looking downcast. M'gann raised her eyes to him reluctantly.

"I just want to help…"

"I know." He said with a sigh. Conner encircled her waist with one of his muscular arms and pulled her slight frame against his.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"

He was silent for a long moment. They stood in his doorway, hugging her to him, taking comfort in her proximity and affection. Finally, he sighed and asked, "M'gann, do you think less of me because I'm an artificial person?"

"What!" She looked up at him mortified. "Of course not!"

"Sometimes I think that's the problem… between me and Superman, I mean." He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, hugger her slight frame tighter against him. "Can you breath okay?"

"Mm-hm." She nodded into his armpit.

"I did the interview with Kent today." Conner continued. "He brought all this other info with him, not just about Superman but other kryptonians too. I had told him that I wanted Superman to accept me because he was the only other one in the world like me and then he pulled out all these articles about other kryptonians that I'd never even heard of. It was like he was saying I had no right to associate with his city's hero, or something.

"I read some of the articles on the way home." He continued. "Some of them were Superman's enemies, other's were allies, even friends. Like Mon-El, he was Superman's ally. They weren't related at all, but they were friends. But me… I'm Superman's clone, I'm practically his twin brother but he won't even give me the time of day. Is it because… do you think he might think I'm not worth his time because I'm not real? Because I'm not a real person, I'm artificial."

M'gann's arms encircled his waist and she hugged him back as tightly as she could. "I don't think that's it at all." She whispered into his armpit. "I can't speak for Superman, I don't know him very well. I can't speak for this Clark Kent person either, but if you told him that you thought Superman was the only person in the world like yourself, maybe he wasn't trying to make you feel unworthy by showing you those other articles, but instead was trying to show you that you're not as alone as you might think and that Superman isn't your only option."

"Ah, M'gann…" He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss her on the lips. "You always see the best in everyone."

"I try." She shrugged. "C'mon, lets go rejoin the others."

Conner let her lead him by the hand back toward the common area. But paused again just before they rejoined the group. "Do you think I scared Kent? I mean, he is only human. I imagine having a super-powered alien clone pissed at you would be kinda scary for the average human, right? Do you think I should apologize?"

M'gann turned around and floated up to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "I think that would be very nice of you."

…

Clark sat at his desk in the bull pit at the Daily Planet. He replayed his recording of his interview with Superboy again and again. A word document was open on this computer in front of him for taking notes, but it remained completely blank, his attention focused on the recording of the troubled teen's voice.

'_I don't want to _be_ Superman, but I do want to be _like_ him…'_

'_I may be an artificial person…'_

'_How do you _think_ I'd feel!"_

With a sigh of resignation Clark switched off the tape and quit the word program on his computer. He wasn't going to get any work done on this story. He actually didn't want to do this story at all. The boy had just dropped in on the Planet without so much as a warning and asked for him by name, and Perry now expected a story out of it. His editor expected him to take responsibility for the Superboy exclusive just like Bruce expected him to take responsibility for Superboy himself.

It seemd that the boy was always being pushed on him in one form or another. The original trio, Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad, had discovered a clone and dropped the boy in his lap calling him his 'son'. Everyone expected him to take the boy in, integrate him into Clark Kent's life and train him as a superhero. But how could he?

Clark Kent was only thirty-three, Superboy resembled a sixteen-year-old, Clark would have had to have fathered him at the age of seventeen (if they chose to go with the 'son' cover story) but that was something that innocent, naïve, farm-boy Clark Kent did not and would never have done.

Clark had already resigned himself that he would never have any children of his own. To spite that list that he'd given the boy, he was the only kryptonian on Earth and while he resembled a human being, Clark was painfully aware that he wasn't one. He would never have any children from a human woman. He would not become a father.

But then the kids went and destroyed the Cadmus facility and dragged out from the crumbling wreckage a boy that looked exactly like him, a boy they called his 'son' -his already grown-up son.

Clark remembered how the boy had looked up to him on that night, his face so open and full of hopeful expectancy. He hadn't responded well to the discovery of the boy's existence. Superboy had probably expected him to welcome him instantly with open arms and a caring smile, to take him on as a protégé, teach him to fly and use the other powers that he would eventually have. But Clark had been to shocked at the time to do more than offer the same reassurances he give all rescued victims on behalf of the League. That had disappointed the boy; he had looked crestfallen when Superman had flown off with the other's escorting the Blockbuster monster.

That had been four months ago and Clark didn't feel any closer to being comfortable with the boy now than he did then. But he was beginning to see the toll his neglect was taking. Superboy was clearly trying to reach out. He'd said he wanted Superman's attention and so he had come to the Daily Planet (the same newspaper Superman offered exclusives to) looking for someone to take his interview and publish him. He had asked for Clark Kent by name… Batman denied having anything to do with this whole farce, but how else would the boy have known to ask for him? He obviously hadn't known that Clark and Superman were one in the same. Clark has seen the surprise on his face last week when he'd met the boy in his civilian guise.

With a sigh of resignation, Clark pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. He wasn't going to get anything done today. He told Perry he was taking a personal day and went home. Safe and alone in his apartment he called the one person he felt could advise him in this matter.

"Hello?" Martha Kent's voice answered after only a few rings.

"Hi, Ma." Clark began subdued. "I've done wrong."

…

It was late afternoon bordering on early evening when Superman touched down on the Kent Farm property. He floated down behind the farmhouse where he would be out of sight of the infrequent highway 'traffic' (and since living in the city so long, he'd come to use that word ironically).

"Well, it sure didn't take you long to get here."

Superman turned to see Martha Clark Kent standing on the back porch, her feet set, arms crossed over her chest, a reproachful frown on her face. She was the spitting image of a scolding parent (which was exactly what she was at that moment). Though he still wore his red and blue Superman suit with cape fluttering heroically in the soft autumn breeze, the kryptonian hero felt far more like the timid farm-boy Clark Kent under his mothers admonishing gaze.

"Makes me wonder why you haven't been by since June."

"Hi, Ma…" Clark demurred.

It was true. The last time he'd come home for a visit to the old farm had been at the end of June. A few days after that had been that fateful night on the Fourth of July when the kids had put out that Cadmus fire discovered its secret underground facility and returned with the Blockbuster monster… and Superboy. Since learning of the boy's existence and subsequent poor reaction to the news, Clark had found it difficult to face his parents. Martha and Jonathan Kent had always wanted children but never been able to have any of their own. So, when he fell out of the sky they had been all to happy to adopt him as their own son.

But Clark wasn't like them. It was true that because he was an alien he could never have any children of his own with a human woman (at least not through any normal means). But when he suddenly had a mysterious super-powered son dropped in his lap he didn't feel any compelling paternal instincts well up inside him as his parents had. Instead the kryptonian hero only felt… wary and slightly violated. At first the boy hadn't seemed like a child to him at all, but rather imposter. A cheap copy created for a nefarious purpose by an mysterious and faceless foe.

As time passed and the boy preformed admirably with the Young Justice team under the guidance of Batman, Red Tornado and Black Canary, he'd started to change his opinion of the boy, to see him not as a shameless copy of himself but rather a young man, a young hero in his own right. But when he would show up in Metropolis offering his assistance and asking Superman for guidance Clark found that he didn't know how to respond to the boy.

He felt awkward around him. He quickly learned that he didn't view the boy in the same way he viewed the other members of the YJ. He didn't see him as anyone's side-kick (and unlike the other, he never had been a side-kick). But he also wasn't his own hero either. He was something in the middle, but Clark couldn't quite give a name to it and when he interacted with the boy directly he felt a mingled since of guilt and responsibility that he couldn't quite explain.

He had had no prior knowledge of the boy's existence, he had nothing to do with his creation, he was in no way obligated to the boy. And yet, everyone had decided that Superboy was his 'son'. Perhaps Clark had begun to believe that himself and that was the source of his mingled guilt and responsibility, he wasn't sure. He was sure, however, that it was the reason why he hadn't come home in four months. How was he supposed to tell him mother that she already had an all grown-up grandson? That he had been created by a shady laboratory for an ambiguous purpose and had apparent anger management issues?

"Well, don't just stand there." Martha Kent set her fists on her hips. "Come inside and change into some real cloths. Then you can tell me all about my grandson."

Clark, ever the obedient son, did as he was told. He blurred into the house, stirring a breeze as he passed his mother on his way in. He had already changed into a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve shirt and was sitting at the kitchen table when she reentered the house. She retrieved a pitcher of sweet tea from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard, these she placed on the table between them and sat down across from her son.

"Jon's out taking in the November harvest, so you're spared his lecture on a 'man's duty' and 'doing right by your family' for now." She pored herself some tea and looked at him over the rim of her cup. "But don't think you're getting out that it all together now."

"Uh, of course." Clark nodded awkwardly. "Should I be helping with the-"

"Clark, your father and I managed this farm just fine before you came into our lives and we can still manage just fine with you living off in your big city. We've hired a few extra hands for the season, but once the crops are in we'll be able to afford it. Now then, lets not delay this any more than it already has been."

Clark winced. He still didn't know exactly how to discuss the subject of Superboy with his mother, but it looked like he'd finally run out of time to figure it out. '_You called her, remember._' He reminded himself. With a heavy sigh, Clark began at the place that seemed easiest –the beginning.

"I first found out about him on Fourth of July." He spoke to his empty teacup, unable to meet his mother's gaze. "There had been a small fire at a research lab in DC called 'Cadmus'. But at the same time a villain named Wotan was trying to block out the sun, so we gave that priority and ignored the lab. So Batman's, Flash's and Aquaman's side-kicks decided to take care of the fire while we were occupied. The rushed in with out orders or even telling us what they were doing. After they rescued the researchers and put out the fire, the trio discovered that the facility extended deep underground. So, like the green kids they were, they investigated without bothering to first send a message to the JLA about what they'd found or what they were doing."

Clark reached for the pitcher of sweet tea and filled his cup almost to the brim. He drank it down without pausing for breath then refilled it before continuing.

"There they discovered something called 'Project Kr', a clone of Superman –of me." He took another sip of his tea, his through suddenly very dry. "As I understand it, the boy… er, Superboy was under the control of these mind-controlling little 'gnome' things and attacked Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad. But then Aqualad said something that managed to get through to Superboy and he aided in his own rescue. It wasn't until the four of them had defeated a monster called Blockbuster, escaped the facility, and destroyed the building that the League actually arrived on the scene."

Clark chanced a glance up at his mother, hoping to gauge a bit of her thoughts. But she only sat patiently, waiting for him to continue. He glanced back down at his tea, his reflection looked back at him reluctant and unsure. This was the part of the story that got murky, bogged down with roiling conflicting emotions. This was the part he didn't want to tell him mother.

"I reacted badly." He confessed. "He was just a kid. He said he was my clone and looked so expectant and hopeful, like I was supposed to pat him on the shoulder and say 'I'm please to meet you'. But I didn't. I just told him the League would figure something out for him, the League, not me. I might as well have told the boy I didn't want to have anything to do with him."

"Well, I'm glad you realize it." Martha commented and sipped her tea. "And from the sound of it you regret that. Looks like Jon and I did something right after all."

"Ma, I-"

"Please continue, Clark."

"After that Batman stepped in and took over and I was more than happy to hand responsibility for the boy over to him." He continued to speak to his tea, not meeting his mother's eyes, afraid of the disappointment he might see in them. "He's been living in an old JLA facility and working with other young heroes on covert missions for the League. I haven't really spoken to him much since that night, just occasionally when he'd show up in Metropolis looking to help with whatever crisis I had that week and asking me to mentor him."

"And why didn't you?" Martha cut in.

"Didn't what?" Clark blinked.

"Mentor him. You are the obvious choice, being the original he was cloned from and all. And he was obviously reaching out to you. Why didn't you take him on as a side-kick?"

"I… I don't know how to approach the boy." He confessed. "He's not like the other Young Justice kids but he's certainly not a Leaguer either. He's… I don't know. Batman has been putting allot of pressure on me to be a father figure to the boy and one of the first things Robin said when they first discovered the boy was to call him my 'son'. Everyone has this expectation… this idea in their minds about Superboy and me, but… but he's not my son, I can't have children. And besides, he's already practically fully grown, how can I be a father to an already grown-up son?"

"Clark Kal-El Kent!" Martha slammed her tea on the kitchen table with a loud _thunk_, spattering sticky sweet tea over her hands. "You disappoint me! Don't tell me that you didn't 'need' to know your real father when Jon and I finally told you about how you came to us. I remember very well you agonizing over where you came from and who you really were until you finally discovered how to use those crystals Jor-El had sent along with you. You were just a teenager then, almost fully grown same as this Superboy is now. He may not have come into this world through conventional means, but neither did you and just like you, he needs to learn where he comes from. Who else can teach him that but you?"

Clark said nothing to defend himself or his reluctance to get to know the boy. He seemed intent on studying the way the kitchen light played over the surface of his tea. Finally he said, "I'm starting to get that." He looked up at his mother. "Recently, the boy changed his tactics for getting Superman's –my attention. He showed up at the Daily Planet wanting to do an interview, hoping Superman would notice him then. He asked for me –for Clark Kent by name."

At that Martha looked up in surprise. "Did he know that you were…?"

"I don't think so…" Clark answered slowly. "He looked surprised when I walked in. He definitely recognized me, but I don't think he actually _believes_ that I'm Superman."

"So then, did you interview him?"

Before she had even finished her question Clark was reaching into his pocket and pulling out his tape recorder. "Listen for yourself. I think this was my first ever failed interview."

Martha Kent accepted the offered player and began the recording. When she had heard it in its entirety she played it a second time just in case she'd missed anything then she turned it off and passed it back to her son. "Clark, you've done wrong by that boy."

"I know." He sighed. "Tell me what I should do to make it right."

"Well, you've made a right mess of it, haven't you." She huffed. "You neglect him as Superman and make him feel unwanted and then you alienate him as Clark Kent and make him feel like he's got no call to want what he wants."

"I know. Should I… Do you think I should tell him that I'm Superman?"

"You _could_." Martha nodded. "But you've played the part of Clark Kent to well. If you reveal your identity to him now you'd only succeed in alienating him further. No, what you need to do is apologize to him as Clark and publish his interview like he wanted. After that, Superman can have a little sit-down with him and when _both_ of your personas are back on cordial terms with the boy, that's when you can reveal your identities."

"Apologizing to him as Clark might be a little difficult."

"And why's that?" Martha asked in the same tone of voice she had always used when he was younger and just making excuses to get out of doing something onerous.

"Well, Clark Kent's just a civilian, he wouldn't be able to put through a personal call to a JLA base. So, unless Superboy shows up in Metropolis again there's really no chance of us seeing each other again."

"You will _not_ take such a fair-weather attitude to this, Clark!" Martha glared at her son. "By your own admission, you can't have children so that boy is the only grandchild I'm ever going to get out of you and I want to know him before I die! Don't give me that look, nobody lives forever. If you're not going to make peace with that boy for his own sake, do it for me and your Pa."

"Okay, Ma, I will." Clark promised. He was reminded of human mortality every day, but the prospect of his parents some day passing was something that always unnerved him. He knew it had to happen some day, but he just didn't like being reminded of the very real probability of it.

"Good." She smiled and took another sip of her tea. "And if you can make nice with him in time for Thanksgiving, that would be even better. You _are_ coming home for Thanksgiving, _right_?"

"Yes, Ma."

"Good." She sipped her tea. "Oh and Clark, what's his name?"

"His name? Uh, well, Superboy."

"Clark Kal-El Kent, 'Superboy' is _not_ a name!"

Clark winced. She'd had to use his full name twice in the same conversation. He wasn't doing to well. "I'm sure the League has given him a civilian name by now." He assured his mother. "I just don't know what it is."

"I don't think I need to tell you how disappointed in you I am at this point. Naming a child is the responsibility of the child's parents. You may not have know about his creation before hand, but you're still his genetic-parent and you should have given him a name. Knowing that League of yours he's probably something like John Smith or John Ralf or maybe a John Proctor. Allot of 'Johns' in your club."

"There are two." Clark muttered indignantly. "And besides, what's wrong with the name 'John'? Pa's a Jon."

"Yes, I know. Which is why we can't have another one in the family for at least another generation. I don't much care for calling one name and being answered by a fleet answer me."

"Yes, Ma." Clark deigned not to point out that two was hardly a fleet.

…

The Dark Knight didn't bother to lower his binoculars at the soft trill of his JLA comm. indicating that he had in incoming call. He had been staking the building out for several days now and didn't want to risk miss his quarry just because the rest of the world's crime fighting community seemed incapable of functioning without him for a few evenings.

"This is Batman. Go ahead." He acknowledged while watching an inter-gang leg-breaker walk out with a prostitute under his arm. The man was a small fry, not worth following, the Batman held his position.

"Bruce, I have a hypothetical question for you." Clark's voice crackled hesitantly in his ear.

The Dark Knight suppressed a growl of annoyance. Two personal calls in two weeks seemed like an abuse of JLA communications, if it turned into three he would have to have words with the Superman. "What is it, Clark?"

"Let's say, hypothetically, that a civilian wanted to get in touch with a specific person under the guardianship of the League, how would a normal civilian go about putting through a personal call?"

"All calls to the Justice League go through government channels, or specific organizations and companies such as STAR Labs have their own JLA emergency comms. The average citizen doesn't call the JLA, the average citizen calls the police."

"Right. But say an average citizen tried really hard to get in touch with a specific member of the League."

Batman paused a moment to consider what Clark was asking and why he might ask something like it. "You messed up as Clark Kent too, didn't you."

Silence followed his deduction, which was all the confirmation the World's Greatest Detective needed.

"Before you say anything, you should know I've already gotten a lecture about it." Clark finally grumbled over the comm.

"I said all I was going to say back at the dinner a few month ago." Batman stated calmly. "If you feel I need to intervene between you and your son further…" He trailed off leaving the end of his sentence to the American alien's imagination.

"He's not my son." Clark muttered with far less vehemence than his friend was used to hearing when discussing the Superboy. Was this a sign that he was finally coming to accept the boy, or just starting to see what a supreme ass he's made of himself over it?

"What do you want, Clark?" He adjusted the focus on his binoculars to get a better look at the license place of a car that just pulled up. "You might find this hard to believe, but I do have other things to worry about besides your family drama."

"I need to apologize to Superboy. As Clark, I mean. Clark Kent needs to apologize to Superboy."

"And Clark Kent is a normal civilian with no means of putting through a personal call to the Justice League let alone its covers sub-division Young Justice." Batman finished as he decided that that hadn't been the car he was waiting for.

"Right."

"What's STAR Labs been doing recently?" He asked seemingly at random.

"What does that have to do with anyth-"

"Have they been doing anything where they might appreciate a bit of extra security of the kind offered by the YJ?"

"Oh! You're thinking of giving the team a mission in Metropolis where Superboy and I might run into each other by accedent!"

"This isn't a Satruday morning cartoon. You don't have to translate everything I say. Just make sure Clark Kent and not Superman is at the right place at the right time and try not to fuck up this time. There just might come a point where he decides to give up on you."

…


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Seven:

"Well, Con, you wanted a mission." Artemis offered him an ironic smile from where she sat at her consol aboard M'gann's Martian bio-ship. The kryptonian-genomorph had been grumbly and broody since Batman had shown up at the Cave earlier that morning and told them all that they would be a security contingent for STAR Labs home base in Metropolis, the Boy of Steel was none to eager to return to that particular city any time soon.

"I meant something more along the line of dropping in behind enemy lines and knocking some heads." Conner grumbled as he slouched lower in front of his own consol.

"There is an old expression, 'be careful what you wish for'." Kaldur said over his shoulder. This earned him nothing more than a dirty look from the Superboy. "In any case, we have a mission to fulfill, let us try and stay focused on the task at hand."

"Some mission." Wally threw in. "We're basically glorified security guards! This is pathetic. They haven't given us any _real_ work since that stupid psychic training misadventure."

"Hey, shut-up!" Conner snapped at the speedster, his own personal drama momentarily forgotten. The Boy of Steel looked to the captain's chair where M'gann sat, her hands on the ship's control spheres, eyes downcast –avoiding his gaze. /_'M'gann, you okay?_'/

/_'I'm allot better now then I was when it first happened. Canary's been really supportive.'_/ She replied, lifting her head to study the main view screen, still not meeting his eyes. "Arriving in Metropolis in five."

/_'That's not what I asked._'/

/_'Hey, you get your angry self-pitying time, I get mine._'/ This time she did face him and offered a sardonic smirk that both reassured and bothered him. /_'After this mission would be the perfect time to apologize to Kent. That is what you decided to do, _right_?_'/

He deigned not to respond and turned his seat back around to face forward. "Alright everyone, we've got a mission to do."

"Miss Martian, please establish a telepathic link." Kaldur ordered.

…

Clark Kent was a little annoyed at being denied entrance to the STAR complex by the laboratory's security staff. As Superman he was always welcome, the security staff offering him welcoming or even appreciative nods as the hero would pass, his bright red cape flowing behind him. But he wasn't Superman right now; right now he was Clark Kent the unremarkable reporter from the Daily Planet that tended to follow Lois Lane around like a lost puppy and was utterly blind and helpless without his glasses. Clark Kent did not get special treatment from STAR Labs security staff.

He politely thanked the guard for his time through gritted teeth. If Lois had been with him she would have stood outside with the man for an hour giving him a piece of her mind, lecturing him on 'the publics right to know' and calling him all manner of unkind names. But Clark wasn't Lois, Clark did not do that sort of thing, Clark was a meek little farm boy whom had been raised to be polite and respectful to everyone. So, rather than 'pulling a Lois' (a phrase the American alien hoped she never found out he used) he circled around the building looking for a less conventional means of entrance.

The soft groaning of an alien machine's hover-drive drew his attention upwards where he saw nothing. Switching his vision to infrared, the shape of a Martian bio-ship appeared before his eyes, descending slowly on top of the STAR complex. So, the kids were just arriving. He switched from infrared to X-ray and counted six people, Batman had sent the whole team.

Clark switched back to his normal vision to find that the ship's camouflage mode had been turned off and had settled into a nice landing, the hatch opened and he watched Aqualad exit, followed closely by Robin, Artemis, Kid Flash, Miss Martian and finally Superboy. They were all gesturing as if in conversation, but their mouths didn't appear to be moving –telepathic link then. Clark had done it a few times with J'onn but not for very long or often, it felt odd having another person in his head. He'd heard that the team used Miss Martian's telepathic abilities in that way quite often during missions (or when holding private conversations right in front of their mentors). It was a little impressive that the kids could use it so often and so comfortably, especially Superboy considering his past at Cadmus.

But he hadn't come to spy on the Team. Clark turned his attention from the teenage entourage and returned to his search for an alternate means of entering the complex, an alternate means that people would believe a _normal human_ could use.

…

The Team was met on the roof by Dr. Hamilton whom lead them inside the main building and down three floors to a dark observation room adjoined to a very brightly lit lab where, clearly visible on the dissection table, was a piece of Professor Ivo's Amazo robot.

"I thought that thing was supposed to be split between Boston and New York." Robin commented, stepping up to the two-way glass that separated the observation room from the lab. "What's a piece of it doing in Metropolis?"

"Yes, we had been studying it separately in both our New York and Boston facilities." Hamilton nodded. "But after the League of Shadows stole vital information from our facility in Philadelphia by way of Dr. Roquette's Fog, we though it would be best to split the research even further, so that if other facilities were hit less information would be stolen. We've done this for several STAR projects. The Amazo robot is now being studied not only in New York and Boston, but also here and Wichita."

"Kansas, huh." Robin crossed his arm, a smirk of amusement dancing over his lips. "I wonder what Superman thinks of that."

"Why would Superman think anything of it?" Superboy asked in utter confusion.

Before the Boy Wonder could answer (or evade answering, he hadn't decided yet), Aqualad stepped forward. "Is there a reason you requested extra security today, Doctor?"

"Well, actually, it was the Justice League who approached me with the offer for extra security." The doctor placed his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Today's the first actual test we're going to perform with it where we allow it enough power for actual movement. A little extra super-powered security would definitely be most welcomed."

"Understood." Aqualad nodded.

The Team spread out over the complex. Robin and Superboy took up positions within the lab itself and tried best to stand out of the way of the working scientists. As a computer expert and a metaphorical tank they were the best equipped to take point if the machine went haywire. Miss Martian and Kid Flash took to the perimeter in case anyone chose to attack the lab from the outside. Artemis positioned herself on a catwalk above the slab to act as sniper. Aqualad remained in the observation room. All maintained telepathic contact.

/_'Does anyone actually think this piece of a tin can is a threat?_'/ Artemis' mental voice wondered through their heads.

/_'It has the ability to copy and use the powers of almost the entire Justice League._'/ Kaldur reminded her. She hadn't yet been on the team when they'd fought it, but it had been her arrow that had helped them when they needed help, so he knew she had been there.

/_'Yeah, but that was when it was all put together._'/ Wally added. /_'This is just a piece of it._'/

Robin stretched before activating the holographic computer he carried on his wrist. /'_Whether or not it's a real threat, we're gonna be here all day. I might as well get some homework done._'/

/_'Ugh! Don't remind me!_'/ Artemis' telepathic thread practically oozed distain. /_'I hate Gotham Academy! I feel like I'm already in college only without the wild fun parties._'/

There was a wave of amusement from Robin as if he were laughing at some private joke at the fem fatal archer's expense but he did not comment further.

/_'Schools not that bad._'/ Conner jumped in. /_'The work's really easy! And I like the scheduling of it all, its nice having the day laid out for me like on a rubric. My biggest problem is the people. I've stopped counting the times M'gann's had to mentally stop me from doing something I'd regret._'/

/_'You're getting much better._'/ The afore mentioned Martian girl assured him.

/_'I don't mean to brag or anything…_'/ Wally's telepathic thread vibrated boastful pride. /'_…but I've been King of the Science Fair at my school the last two years in a row._'/

/_'And we're very proud of you, too._'/ Robin humored him. /_'But what can you tell me about the 1907 Bankers' Panic?_'/

/'_Well, uh… its history._'/

/_'The 1907 Bankers' Panic or Panic of 1907, was a financial crisis that occurred in the United States when the New York Stock Exchange fell almost 50% from its peak of the previous year._'/ Conner's psychic thread carried a monotone as he answered Robin's question. /'_The crisis was triggered by the failed attempt in October 1907 to corner the market on stock of the United Copper Company._'/

/_'Thank you, Wikipediaboy._'/ Wally mentally groaned. /_'Rob, have you got Con doing your homework for you?_'/

/_'Hang on!_'/ M'gann cut in. /_'I though I just saw someone climb over the south wall_.'/

/_'Just one?_'/ Asked Aqualad.

/_'Just the one._'/ The Martian confirmed. /_'I didn't get a good look at him, I only just saw him out the corner of my eye. Tall, male, dark hair… not really dressed for a fight._'/

/_'Don't need to dress for a fight if all you are is a distraction._'/ Artemis threw in.

/_'Did you see which way he went?_'/ Kadur pressed.

/_'Yes._'/

/_'Stay on him. Kid Flash, swing back around the building, box him in from the other direction. Artemis, you've got the Amazo piece covered, right? Stay in position. Robin, access the security feed, see if you can find any other intruders in the complex. Superboy, stay in the lab in case the piece wakes up._'/

Kaldur's orders were met with a chorus of psychic confirmations and the Team split into action.

Robin saved what little of his schoolwork he'd actually gotten done and closed the program. He then withdrew the retractable USB cord from his wristband and hooked up to a nearby terminal. Pulling up the STAR Labs' security feed he scanned the video feeds from the other cameras on the perimeter before turning his attention to inside the complex. /_'I can't find anyone else on the feed._'/

/_'Wally and I are in position to take the intruder._'/ M'gann informed them.

…

Clark used his X-ray vision to find where Superboy was. He appeared to be standing against a far wall of a laboratory in the main building, his arms crossed over his chest looking board. Every now and again his expression would change ever so slightly –more telepathic communication with the Team, probably. Now then, what would be an innocent and convincing way for reporter Clark Kent to run into him?

He heard the footfalls a split second before the boy tagged him. The sound had the same speed and pattern as Barry's but was lighter. Kid Flash grabbed him by the kaki sleeve of his blazer and spun them both around. Any normal man would have been made so dizzy as to disorient him into near collapse and prevent escape, which Clark assumed had been the boy's plan.

Clark played along, when they finally stopped spinning, he fell on his backside, his fedora askew, his glasses hanging from one ear. He looked the perfect picture of an awkward newsman caught off his guard and thrown into a goofy stupor. He looked up at Kid Flash and blinked.

"Hey there." The boy smiled down at him.

"H-hi." Clark stuttered, righting his glasses. Then, once his persona's supposed vision was restored he added, "Oh, wow, you're the Flash's side-kick –Flashboy!"

"Kid Flash!" The boy corrected, it came out as a growl dripping with annoyance. "And don't call us 'side-kicks'."

"Us?"

He already knew the rest of the YJ was here, but why let on that he knew things he wasn't supposed to? Young Justice was a secret division of the Justice League; normal citizens like Clark Kent weren't supposed to know about it.

"Us." A female voice confirmed and J'onn's niece, M'gann, appeared hovering in the air on his other side. She floated down to stand next to Kid Flash. "Now, tell us who you are and what you're doing here."

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet." He smiled back up at the two of them and reached into his coat for his press badge.

"Clark Kent!" The two echoed in stereo. They exchanged glances.

Miss Martian placed a hand to her head and assumed a posture he'd often seen women often assume when making a casual phone call. So, she was using her telepathy to tell Superboy that he was here. Clark suddenly found that he was nervous about seeing the boy again so soon. When she had apparently finished her mental conversation she gave a nod as if acknowledging orders and turned back to him.

"Come with me please, Mr. Kent." She gave a sweet smile and offered him a hand up. "Oh, wow, you're heavy. Oh, shoot. Hello, M'gann! That's not a polite thing to say to someone you just met. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He offered his own friendly smile in return.

"Anyway, I'm gonna take you somewhere to be questioned then security's gonna escort you off the property." She continued.

…

M'gann lead Clark into a staff lounge that had been cleared out for her. She sat him down in a standard issue office chair before asking Kaldur, /_'Do you want to come question him yourself or should I just read his mind?_'/

/_'He hasn't yet done anything to earn him our mistrust.'_/ The Atlantian replied. /_'Reading his mind would be an undue invasion of his privacy.'_/

/_'Yeah, he hasn't done anything but sneak into a place that hold bits of super-villain play-things_.'/ Wally's telepathic voice cut sarcastically. /_'No, that's not suspicious at all._'/

/_'You're forgetting what vultures reporters are_.'/ Artemis replied. /'_He could have just been looking for his next big scoop_.'/

/_'I think it's a bit to big of a coincidence that I saw him just yesterday and now he's showing up on our missions._'/ Conner deadpanned into the conversation. /_'I want to know why he's here._'/

/_'Sorry, Kal, you might be leader, but it looks like you got out-voted._'/ Artemis gave a mental shrug.

/_'Robin?_'/ The Atlantian inquired.

The Boy Wonder gave no verbal response. But waves of amusement and barely contained laughter washed over the whole Team and they all wondered what the hell was so funny as to leave him with sides splitting, unable to answer them clearly.

/_'I'll have to break the link to read him._'/ She said.

/_'Do it._'/ Superboy said.

The last thing M'gann felt from them before cutting off their telepathic link was fresh annoyance from Kaldur at having his authority undermined (not for the first time) and Robin's hysterical amusement. She turned to Kent.

"This won't hurt you a bit." She assured the man and placed her fingers over his temples.

The reporter grabbed her wrist suddenly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just going to read your mind to figure out what you're doing here." She told him. "I promise it doesn't hurt."

"No, don't!"

"Mr. Kent," M'gann bent down so that she could be on eye-level with him sitting in the chair. She looked him strait in the eye to assure him that her power had no negative effects on humans. Crystal blue irises looked back her. An unusual color in humans. Most people M'gann had seen with blue eyes had either a paler sky-blue or a darker cobalt. There was only one other person she'd ever seen with Mr. Kent's shade of crystal blue…

'_I think… I think Kent might actually be Superman. I mean, Superman's civilian guise might actually be Clark Kent._'

Conner's words from a week ago echoed through her memory and she jumped back in shock without ever even touching the man's mind. How often had she gazed into Conner's crystal blue eyes, eyes a shade that no human had, a shade that no human _would_ have because it wasn't a human shade of blue… it was a kryptonian shade. And there was only one other kryptonian (currently) on Earth besides Conner.

M'gann looked down at the man sitting before her in utter disbelief that he was the Superman.

"I didn't feel you in my head." He said raising his face to look at her. His voice changed, the mid-western accent disappeared and was replaced with the firm and commanding baritone she remembered from the few times she'd met him. He didn't take off his glasses, or his hat, his suit did not change from kaki blazer to blue jumpsuit with red briefs showing on the outside but, somehow, he no longer appeared to be Clark Kent and M'gann was convince she was looking at the Man of Steel. Something about his air changed, the way he held himself, the way he spoke, it was all very subtle, but came together to project a strikingly different image than a few moments before.

"You're him, aren't you?" M'gann whispered. "Conner said you reminded him of Superman but he spent the last week convincing himself that you're not him. But you are him…"

Here Superman raised an eyebrow in confusion and a little bit of Clark Kent returned to his demeanor. "Who's Conner?"

The Martian girl's eyes flared with anger. "Superboy." She growled out at him. "Superboy is Conner! Conner is the name I gave him because he didn't want to come up with one on his own and you never bothered to name him."

She glared down at the Superman whom seemed to shrink under her reprimanding eyes and his air and posture returned to that of timid little Clark Kent.

"Conner Kent!" She continued. "My uncle suggested the surname. I thought it was a tribute to Kent Nelson, the late Doctor Fate. I didn't know it was _your_ civilian name. Ya know, Conner's been doing everything he can to try and please you. He's doing his best and trying really hard, but all you do is ignore him. Then when you meet him in your civilian guise you shove a bunch of papers of other kryptonians in his face like you're trying to invalidate his love for you. Yes, he loves you, though I'm starting to think you don't deserve it.

"I defended you, ya know. After Conner came home upset after your interview I told him that you probably didn't mean any harm by it. But now I see that you were probably just trying to make excuses for yourself. You're not the only one in the universe Conner can turn to, so you've got no obligation to help him. Artemis is right, you _are_ a dick! And I don't usually use language like that."

Clark sat silently and listened to all the Martian girl had to say. He had already seen a little bit of how his neglect of Superboy –of Conner- was affecting him. But he hadn't seen all of it. This girl lived with the boy and got to witness first hand all the damage he'd caused by his neglect and alienation of his clone over the past few months.

"What I don't get," She began again after a prolonged pause, "is what you're doing here now."

"That's simple." He said. "I came to apologize to Superb- to Conner, as Clark. I had meant it to seem like we ran into each other by accident while I was following a story and he was on a mission."

"That's stupid. Who thought of that?"

Clark didn't bother answering her question, opting instead to stay on point. "I want to make things right between Superboy and I."

"Conner!" She snarled.

"Conner." He quickly amended. "I want to make things right between Conner and I. I know I've done wrong by him and I've no excuse. So, I'm trying to make it up to him. If I just came out and told him that I'm Superman he'd just feel manipulated in addition to rejected by me. Let me make things right as Clark, then I can make things right as Superman."

Clark shifted his position in the chair to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He withdrew from it a business card. "Look, this is my extension at the Planet, plus my cell number." He offered her the card. "Will you make sure that Sup- Conner gets it?"

Hesitantly, M'gann accepted the offered card. She looked from it to Kent and back again. "I'll give it to him, but its up to him whether or not to call you." She altered the bio-fabric of her costume to manifest a pocket for the card. "Ya know, I had convinced him to apologize to you for storming off yesterday. But now I don't think you deserve his apology." She turned to leave the room. "Security will be by soon to escort you off the property."

"What are you going to tell the rest of the Team?"

She paused and made a half turn, her bangs falling over her eyes obscuring her expression. "That you were following a lead and it had nothing to do with our mission."

"And if Conner asks you if I was here looking for him?"

Now she did turn to face him fully, anger once again playing over her usually sweet and gentle features. "Conner trusts me and I don't want to do anything that would violate that trust. If he asks me directly, I'm going to tell him the truth."

M'gann closed the door behind her and took a moment or two to collect herself before reestablishing a telepathic link with the rest of the group. /_'I'm done._'/

/_'That took uncommonly long._'/ Kaldur's voice was the first in her head.

/_'So, what'd you find out?_'/ Robin's amusement (now perfectly explained) was the second thing to wash over her and the Martian girl suddenly found herself very annoyed by it. He knew. Robin had always known who Clark Kent was. That was why he had suggested Kent to Conner in the first place. The little brat!

/_'M'gann, are you okay?_'/ Conner's concern normally comforted her, but in this instance it only made her feel guilty and ashamed.

/_'Don't worry, guys. He's not important._'/ She said. /_'He came here for something that had nothing to do with our mission._'/

…

The day was almost spent, the sun dipping below the city skyline in the west silhouetting the buildings in a halo of crimson and gold.

"Lamest. Mission. _Ever_!" Wally commented as they climbed back onto the Martian bio-ship.

His comment earned him a hard smack on the back of the head from Artemis. "You're supposed to wait until after we're gone to say that, idiot."

M'gann held Conner back before he climbed the gangplank. She withdrew Clark Kent's business card from her pocket. "Mr. Kent asked me to give you this." She said. "Its his work number and his personal cell. He wants you to call him."

"Thanks." He accepted the card. "This'll make apologizing much easier." He placed the card in his back pocket. Then his expression turned serious. "Hey, M'gann, you said he had nothing to do with our mission, but what about me? Did Kent come looking for me?"

She had told Superman that she would tell Conner the truth if he asked her outright, but even so she found herself hesitating.

"He wanted to apologize to you." She said at length.

"Really? But how did he know I'd be here?" His gaze turned suddenly wary and suspicious.

"He had an inside source, with STAR, I mean." It wasn't exactly a lie. He was Superman and while his information had actually come from the JLA and not STAR Labs he still had several contacts within the Lab. They offered him medical attention and gave technological council when he needed it. "You know how reporters are."

"Uh… actually I don't."

"Hey! Are you two coming?" Wally called from the ship's cabin. "We cant take-off without our pilot!"

"Coming." M'gann called back.

"You go ahead." Conner said. "We're already in Metropolis, I'll take this opportunity to find and talk to Kent again. Maybe this time we can actually finish our interview without any misunderstandings or bursts of temper."

"Are you sure you wanna see him again so soon?"

He shrugged. "Might as well."

"Hey, c'mon! Some of us have school tomorrow!" The latest of Wally's calls was punctuated by a loud _thwak_ that sounded suspiciously like Artemis' fist connecting with his shoulder and an extra exclamation of, "Ow!"

M'gann ignored him a bit longer, her attention on Conner. "How will you get home?"

"I'll manage." He offered a reassuring smile. "I am Superboy, after all."

"You certainly are. Call me if you want a pick-up."

…

Superman was well over two thousand feet above street level when his cell rang. He answered his JLA comm. first and wondered why it kept ringing and why there was no one on the other end before his brain caught up with his cape and he realized it was his civilian cellular phone. He halted his flight and hovered in mid air to take the phone out.

He didn't recognize the number that flashed across the touch screen. But there weren't many people he gave Clark Kent's cell number out to, so it had to be someone he knew.

"Hello?" He answered curiously.

"Uh, hi…" His own voice only younger answered back. "I'm trying to reach a Mr. Clark Kent."

Well, that was fast. He'd only just given Miss Martian his number a few hours ago. Superboy –Conner- must have called him the moment his mission was over. He supposed that was a good sign… right? "This is he."

"Hi, Mr. Kent, this is Superboy." He sounded awkward and unsure and Clark was once again reminded that he was still just a kid.

Physically he resembled a sixteen-year-old and teenagers were by nature insecure, but Conner was actually only eight months old. He had none of the life experience of a normal teenager. The first people to take care of him, his creators, manipulated and controlled him. That under any other circumstances would have been considered abuse. He had been living alone with only one other alien and a robot for companionship. And he, Superman, the man that everyone (the boy included) thought should be his mentor ignored him and tried to push him off on others. It was a wonder he was able to function at all! Being a little awkward and unsure was probably lite for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to apologize for yesterday." The boy began after a prolonged pause. "I realize that having a super-person angry at you might be scary for a normal person, so I wanted to let you know that there are no hard feelings. Are we cool?"

Superman descended as he replied, "I actually owe you the apology, Superboy." He said in his best timid and awkward Clark Kent voice. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you had no right to want to get to know Superman. I did have noble intentions at heart."

Superman landed in a dark narrow alley between two buildings and changed back into Clark. He was adjusting his tie with one hand when he stepped out, the phone still held to his ear with the other. "Where are you right now?"

"A pay phone not far from STAR. Why?"

"Do you know a diner called Bibbo's?"

"Not really. And I'm gonna ask again: why?"

"If you can find it and meet me there I'll buy you dinner."

…


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Eight:

Clark arrived late to Bibbo's. He should have been there first, but on the way there had been a mugging, a bank robbery and a cat stuck in a tree. He supposed he could have passed the cat in the tree, but its caterwauls sounded so desperate and helpless, and as Ma always used to say, 'the deepest darkest level of hell was reserved for people who mistreated cats'.

Superboy –Conner- was already waiting at the diner by the time Clark arrived. He stood just inside the door in the small area customers were asked to wait for a table during time's of high volume. He stood at parade rest, his feet planted, arms resting behind his back and Clark for a brief moment did not see the boy he'd been neglecting the past few months but rather the weapon that had been constructed by a shadowy organization for a nefarious purpose. That gave him a moment's pause. But when the weapon's eyes fell on the reporter his expression softened to a friendly (if a little unsure) smile and he was suddenly a child again.

"Mr. Kent." He said. "I was begging to wonder if I'd gotten the wrong place."

"I'm surprised you got here so fast." Clark admitted. He removed his coat and draped it over his shoulder. "You didn't have to stand here, you could have gotten a table while you waited."

"I, uh, I didn't know." The boy muttered, his awkward insecurity thickening.

"Don't worry about it." Clark quickly back-peddled. He hadn't invited him to dinner to cause more damage, he was trying to repair the damage that he'd already done. He lead the boy to the same booth he'd sat in with Bruce so many months ago and didn't know if he should laugh or cringe at the irony of it.

The reporter withdrew the menus from where they were kept on the table held between the salt and pepper shakers and the sugar. He handed one to the boy and set the other in front of himself, not really needing to study it. He, apparently, ate at Bibbo's so often now that he had a 'usual' order. Conner on the other hand flipped through the menu in confusion.

"I don't know what I like." He confessed meekly.

Clark raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. He may have been grown in an underground lab for sixteen weeks prior to joining the Young Justice team, but that was back in July, it was now November and he'd had over four months to sort out his likes and dislikes as far as food went. "What have you been eating these past few months?"

The boy shrugged. "Whatever get's put in front of me."

"Well, out of the things that've been put in front of you, what have you liked?" Clark didn't feel much like being the one to help the boy sort out his own personal preferences and he certainly wasn't feeling up to doing it tonight, but the kid looked so helpless staring at the menu. He had to say something.

Conner shrugged again. "Most of M'gann's cooking all tastes the same. I guess I'll just pick something random."

If Martha Kent had been present she would have persisted until the boy figured out not only what he did and did not like to eat but also his preferred condiments, beverages and dessert. Ma Kent was not here, however, and Clark had neither the patience nor the inclination to work with the boy on something as mundane as his basic meal preferences. The reporter was more than willing to let him pick something at random.

He called Bibbo over and the two placed their orders. When the man left them Superboy fidgeted in his seat, unsure, before asking, "So, should we pick up where we left off? With the interview, I mean."

"If that's what you want." Clark nodded.

…

It was Sunday night and everyone but Kaldur had school the following morning and so shortly after the Martian bio-ship touched down in the Mt. Justice hangar the team was packing up all their various weekend items and preparing to go home.

Robin had just finished changing into his civies when there was a firm knock on his door. The Boy Wonder took his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on before answering. M'gann stood in his doorframe; her arms crossed over her chest, a reprimanding scowl marring her usually lovely features.

Even if he hadn't been the protégé of the World's Greatest Detective he would have been able to guess why she'd come to see him. He hadn't exactly been trying to hide his amusement over the whole 'Clark Kent' incident and after reading his mind M'gann would know that the reporter for the Daily Planet was actually Superman. He expected her to confront him about it in some way shape or form before telling Conner. She would want to confirm what her powers had told her and reflect on how to tell the emotionally vulnerable and volatile genomorph. She'd probably also really like to tell him off for sending Conner to him in the first place.

"You knew who Kent was." It wasn't a question. She entered the room fully, closing the door behind her and glared daggers at the thirteen-year-old Boy Wonder.

"I live with Batman." He replied by way of explanation. "I know almost everything."

"You should have warned Conner before sending him off to meet him. Otherwise, you shouldn't have suggested it at all. How do you think he's going to feel when he finds out? And that you knew all along? That was just cruel, Robin! I'm surprised at you."

She had a pretty good 'big sister' routine going for her. It wasn't very intimidating, that could use a little work (but then again, after being trained by Batman nothing seemed intimidating anymore). But her equal parts bossiness and emotional appeal were adequate. Robin felt the sudden compulsion to defend or justify himself to her.

"Superman's been ignoring him since we first rescued him." He meant himself, KF and Kaldur. M'gann had not been there. She had not seen the reception the Man of Steel had given his equivalent son. "I think you can agree that it's gone on long enough. They both need a bit of a push to get their relationship sorted out, however that may be. This way Superman gets to see the way he's been not-treating Conner shoved in his face while Conner gets a chance to get to know the man without having to worry about performing for his idol."

The Boy Wonder watched her digest it from that point of view. Those hadn't been his actual reasons when he began this farce, but they sounded allot better than 'I just wanted to see what would happen'. She seemed to be fighting to keep her 'reprimanding big sister' face on while she turned his words over in her mind –beginning to see the logic of it.

"Its still manipulative and wrong!" She said at length.

Robin only shrugged.

"You do realize that Conner's just going to feel betrayed that we've been keeping this from him when he does find out." The Martian girl reminded him.

"So tell him." The Boy Wonder shrugged. "Then he'll be pissed at Superman for playing him and nothing'll change between the two of them. Or don't tell him and give Supes some time to reveal his own identity and he and Conner will finally have the relationship that we all agree they should have… but Conner'll be mad at you for a little while for keeping it from him. Its up to you."

"You've put me in a very awkward position, Robin, and so do _not_ appreciate it." That reproachful glare was back in full force. "Did you even _think_ about what you were doing?"

"I didn't think you'd go and read Superman's mind before he and Conner got their act sorted out."

"I didn't read his mind." M'gann corrected. "I was about to, but he kept protesting and then I saw how much he looked like Conner and I knew why he didn't want me to read his mind. But that's a moot point."

"Wow, so you saw through his '_guise_?" The Boy Wonder sounded rather pleased with the news.

He could still count the number of people who saw through the whole 'Clark Kent' act on one hand, but M'gann raised that number by a third! That was impressive. (It was also impressive that the number of people that saw though Superman's flimsy 'disguise' could still be counted on only one hand after twelve years of heroing. Wait, not it wasn't 'impressive'. A more accurate statement would be to call it a deplorable example of the overall obliviousness of the people Clark surrounded himself with in his daily life. And, while we're at it, lets just go ahead and add some insult to that collective injury and remind ourselves that most of the people Clark surrounds himself with are investigative journalist –one of which had clocked more time with Superman than any other woman on the globe.)

M'gann's severe demeanor faded a little and she indulged in one of Robin's word plays (which she assumed he'd set up for her to do). "It had lots of _dis_'. But please don't change the subject."

"Alright, what did he tell you when you realized who he was?"

"He said he knows he messed up with Conner and that he wants to make things right." M'gann explained.

"That's great! That's what Batman's been trying to get him to do this whole time!" Robin smiled. "Just give Superman the time he needs and everything will turn out okay in the end. He is Superman after all."

"But I don't wanna keep things from Conner." The Martian girl hugger her forearms, everything about her posture radiated indecision and conflict.

"Sorry, but that sounds more like a personal problem."

…

This second interview (or perhaps it was part two of the first) went much more smoothly than the previous one. It was still awkward and uncomfortable (at least for Clark it was), but there seemed to be less tension between them. The casual setting of Bibbo's diner as opposed to a wide-open and windy rooftop might have also contributed to their mutual comfort. While the chill November air particularly affected neither of them, it was still more comfortable to sit out of the wind and be served hot food while they talked.

Superboy's answers to his queries were awkward and a little dry at first, as if he were reading off answers from an operations manual and so Clark broke-up the big questions about Cadmus and his purpose with silly and mundane things like his favorite color or if he had discovered any sports teams he liked since leaving the lab.

The boy's favorite color was green (Clark found himself doing a mental happy-dance at the answer, his favorite color was blue, Conner wasn't _exactly_ like him after all! and that knowledge relieved him a little). At the sports team question, however, he had stared down at his pancakes and confessed that he didn't know much about sports aside from what was covered in PE. His classmates at school were very passionate about their football and basketball seasons when they played against other schools. So if he had to pick a team, he'd have to go with his high school team (though he did not give away the name of his school, which was good). Clark made a mental note to introduce the boy to the Kansas State Wildcats some time (not literally, of course).

And then the boy's words caught up with him. "You're attending public school?"

Superboy gave a shrug. "Batman and Canary said I have to. Because I'm a minor."

He took a bite of his pancakes. When the three cake short-stack had been placed in front of him the first thing the boy had done was cut off the round sides to form the stack into a perfect square. He had then cut that square into several smaller bite-size squares and ate them one row at a time. Clark had raised an eyebrow at the odd behavior; he certainly never did anything like that. Maybe the compulsion was a side effect of his Cadmus programming?

"I'd think that attending a public school would be dangerous, considering that you can't fully control your strength, I mean." And considering that he was really only less than a year old and had next to no idea how to conduct himself in normal human social situations and could violently over-react to any small infraction by a peer.

"That's what I said." The boy nodded. "But Batman said so, and you don't argue with Batman. Or, at least, you don't win arguments with Batman."

Clark knew how that went. The only times when Bruce had not flat-out won any disagreement between the two of them was when they were interrupted, cut-off, or he just flat out walked away without finishing the discussion. It was extremely difficult to have a differing opinion with that man. For a guy with no powers, he was pretty freaking powerful.

"So I was given a real-person name and enrolled in school." The boy continued. "They made me turn my shirt inside out on my first day to hide the S-shield, but when I got there everyone was wearing an insignia of one sort or another on their shirt and that kinda pissed me off. I'm still trying to get the hang of this 'secret identity' thing."

This was a topic that Clark felt was rather serious.

"Do you understand why you need a 'secret identity'?" He asked. "Do you know why you can't let others know you're Superboy?"

"To protect the League and my Team." The boy answered, looking up from his meal and making direct eye contact. He rarely did that, Clark noticed. He had the sneaking suspicion that the boy felt uncomfortable looking at his face. Well, he had recognized him as Superman on their first meeting and, according to J'onn's niece, had convinced himself that he was not the Man of Steel. He probably avoided looking at him directly in an effort to avoid how much they resembled each other.

"That's one of the reason's, yes." Clark nodded. "But also to protect those around you who cannot protect themselves. If a powerful villain knew what high school you attended that school would become a target for your enemies. Innocent people would get hurt for no other reason than the fact that they know you."

"Oh. I… I didn't know." The boy looked back down at his meal. "How do you know all this, Mr. Kent?"

"Oh, me? Well, I uh…" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I am a reporter after all. I know all sorts of things, way more than I ever publish!" That was true. He did know much, much more than he did or ever would publish, but not because he was a reporter.

"Oh. I see." A pause. "How much of what we've been talking about are you going to publish?"

"How much do you want me to publish?" Clark shot back.

"I haven't said anything that I wasn't prepared for others to know." The boy answered slowly. "I just want Superman to notice me…"

"Oh, he does."

"How do you know?" Superboy once again raised his head and made eye contact and Clark realized his mistake just a little to late.

"L-Lois, of course." He answered quickly. "She's the only reporter Superman ever talks to. She and I partner-up allot, so sometimes she tells me what's up with the Big Guy."

The boy's eye's narrowed skeptically. "Last week when I was in town I ran into Lane and Superman together." He said. "Lane mentioned that Superman hasn't told her anything about me. How would you know from her if Superman notices me if he never says anything about me to her?"

Crap baskets!

"We're investigative reporters." Now he was just puling thing out of the air. "We're basically detectives. Sometimes, the things a person doesn't say can be even more telling than what they do say. The fact that Superman avoids the topic of you so stridently just shows how heavily you weigh on his mind."

To this the boy raised an eyebrow. "What like… a possible threat?"

"I didn't say that." Clark said quickly, then sighed. He took a sip of his sweet tea and tried to relax. "Look, you haven't been alive for every long and you've been out in the world for less than that. It may not be my place saying this to you, but someone needs to explain something to you about men and expectations."

The boy just looked confused.

"Since you first appeared, everyone's drawn their own conclusions about who you are and what you are to Superman." Clark began, suddenly feeling the same awkward tension from their first botched interview return. "Everyone assumed you were his son and expected him to take up the role and responsibility of 'father' to you." _'Please don't ask how Clark Kent knows this. I promise I'll tell you as Superman after the article is published.'_

"But he's not my father." The boy corrected. "I'm a clone, an artificial person, I don't have parents. If people wanted to assign a familial title to me it'd be more accurate to call me his twin brother."

Clark found that assessment just a little amusing and he allowed a lopsided smile to grace his lips. "A twin brother who appears to be seventeen years younger than the Man of Steel?"

"Ah, I see your point."

"This is something you have to understand about the way people think. Considering your age and your powers, it's easier for people to imagine you as Superman's son rather than whatever other more accurate but complicated term you'd prefer to use. This then places an unexpected expectation on Superman. He's still young, unattached –to the best of my knowledge-" he quickly added, Clark Kent wasn't supposed to be privy to the details of the Man of Steel's personal life. "Suddenly having the responsibility of a son dropped on him would be jarring. And you're already practically grown. He probably didn't know what to do, so he did nothing."

"But he's been responsible for this city for the past twelve years." The boy protested. "Heck, he's been responsible for the safety for the whole _planet _a couple of times. What's the added responsibility of me on top of all that?"

"It's a different kind of responsibility." Clark tried to explain. "Its easy to take responsibility for millions or even billions of strangers. To protect them from harm, do a good deed, smile and wave and then fly away. But a son he has to do more than just keep from harm and smile. He has to take you in, integrate you into his life, teach you right from wrong. And things like that tend to fill a man with uncertainty, even fear. And it's even harder for him because you're practically already an adult."

"So…" The boy began slowly. "What you're saying is, he's afraid of failing with me so he won't even try?"

Ooh, that stung. Clark supposed that he deserved that. "I'm saying he's scared. What, exactly, he's scared of is another matter. Here on Earth we have a saying: 'he's only human'."

"But he's not human. He's Kryptonian."

"Yes, but he's still just a man." Clark explained. "Sure, he's not originally from Earth, he might have incredible super-powers, some people might view him as some sort of 'higher being' but he's not. He's still just a man and as such is just as capable of the same shortcomings as any other man in the world."

The boy smiled, something similar to the tentative but hopeful smile shown on the Fourth of July. "That's how you make him sound in your articles. When you actually write about him, I mean."

"Its an important detail I think allot of people forget."

"At Cadmus…" He paused, looked once again unsure. "The information the gnomes loaded me with made him seem… perfect."

"Oh, he's far from perfect."

"That's actually a little comforting. Thank you."

Bibbo appeared again to clear away their empty dishes and brought Clark a slice of apple pie for dessert. Superboy watched the reporter lift a bite of it to his mouth and savor the flavor with obvious enjoyment.

"What is that?"

"Apple pie." Clark supplied. He took another bite. Paused. Looked at the boy, looked back at his pie, decided to try something. "Wanna try a bite?"

"Can I?"

Clark pushed the plate across the table. The boy was supposed to be his clone, an exact copy of him only younger, but this conversation had already shown him a couple differences between them, their favorite colors were different, and the boy seemed to have a compulsive disorder.

"Oh, wow, this is great!"

Of course, in most other respects they were exactly the same. Clark pulled his pie back to him. "Do you want to order one of your own?"

"Can I?"

Clark shrugged. "I'm buying."

Superboy ordered his slice of pie and a second piece to go.

That sparked a thought. "How are you getting back? To wherever you're going, I mean."

There was, of course, a zetta tube in Metropolis that would take him back to Mt. Justice. But Clark wasn't sure if the boy knew about it or not. He had arrived in the Martian bio-ship with the rest of the Young Justice team, but they had long since gone back to base. How was he going to get home? Clark Kent wasn't supposed to know where JLA zetta tubes where, so he couldn't direct the boy. He was momentarily struck by the sudden compulsion to offer to fly him back to Mt. Justice as Superman. That thought was quickly stamped out; they weren't ready for that yet.

Superboy accepted the to-go carton containing his second slice of pie from Bibbo before answering, "I'll just call for a ride, no big deal."

…

Later that evening Conner sat at his consol on M'gann's Martian bio-ship. It was a little odd being the only two people on the bridge. With the others, the cabin was usually filled with idle chatter and joking, at present it was just himself and M'gann and no sound but the soft hum of the ship's engines.

"Are you okay?" He asked in an attempt to break the silence. "You're not usually this quiet. I'm usually the quiet one."

"Its nothing." She answered quickly. "I'm just thinking. So, how was your talk with Kent?"

"It was actually pretty good." Conner said, oddly optimistic. He opened his to-go carton and picked a bite of his pie with his bare fingers.

"What's that?" M'gann asked.

"Something Kent introduced me to. Its called apple pie." He took a second bite, licked his fingers then looked up to the Captain's chair at his girlfriend. "You wanna try some?"

"No, it's alright." She offered a pleasant smile. "I don't wanna take your food from you."

To her surprise, Conner snapped his to-go arton shut and stood, walking right up to the Captian's chair. He wrapped one arm around her and lifted her up, sitting himself down in her place and rearranging her in his lap.

"Conner! What are you doing!"

He then reopened his to-go box and pinched off another bite of pie. "Just try a piece."

"You need me to sit on you for that?"

"It seemed better than standing in front of you."

The Martian girl heaved a sigh. Neither of them could really tell the other if this situation was inappropriate or not, and it wasn't exactly like she didn't enjoy sitting on her boyfriend's lap. Conner was big and built solid, he actually made a rather comfortable living chair. She accepted the offered bite of pie from his hand and licked the sticky-sweet apple filling from his fingers. Hey, that did taste pretty good.

"Oh, man. Maybe this was a bad idea." Conner muttered.

She felt him squirm beneath her and her empathic sense picked up that same familiar self-conscious heat he'd been radiating whenever they were close for some time now. M'gann had wanted to move their relationship to the next level, and this did seem like the perfect opportunity talk to him about their next steps. But now she also had misgivings about whether or not she had the right to try and be more intimate with Conner if she were keeping secrets from him.

"Do you want me to move so you can move back?"

"I, uh, I don't know." He confessed. "Do you want me to move back?"

"Lets not start that."

…


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Nine:

Kent's article didn't run the following morning. That made sense, they had finished their conversation kinda late in the evening and Kent was 'only human' after all (Conner had decided to start practicing with the phrase), he would need a bit of time to draft up the story and then run it by his editor. To expect it to appear Monday morning was just a little silly.

Still, that didn't stop M'gann from asking about it when he returned that Monday morning from getting his papers.

"No, we only just finished talking last night. I don't think a normal person like him could type as fast as I can…" Conner raised an eyebrow at her. She had cooked far more than she usually did, especially for a weekday. Normally, breakfast was comprised of just one or two easy to make items, an omelet, fried eggs and bacon, pancakes with jam, etc. This morning, however, it seemed that M'gann had cooked a feast. There were fried eggs (sunny-side up on top, burn to a black crisp on the bottom), buttermilk pancakes (crispy on the outside, still gooey on the inside), bacon, sausage, waffles, two kinds of jam and fresh fruit slices. "What's all this?"

"Nothing." The Martian girl gave a strained smile. "I just felt like doing something nice for you."

The kryptonian-genomorph studied her for a moment longer. She had been acting odd last night as well. She had been quiet and a bit withdrawn and hadn't spoken to him through her telepathy since she came to pick him up from Metropolis. That was probably the oddest thing considering she seemed to prefer non-verbal communication; it was how most people communicated on Mars and so was what she was more used to and more comfortable with. But she hadn't sent so much as a passing thought at him since yesterday's mission.

Had he done something to upset her? Did she not appreciate his not returning with the others and then making her come back to the sprawling city to pick him up? Was that why she had been so withdrawn last night? But then why be nice to him by making more food than even Wally could pack away before school? Weird. Girls were weird. Natural people were weird. Maybe it had something to do with her being a girl. Girls acted weird on their menstrual cycle, right? Conner cringed at the idea, but it was a possible explanation for his girlfriend's odd behavior. (Wait, did Martian girls have menstrual cycles like human females? The young clone decided he did not want to ask.)

…

School was the normal affair that it always was with one caveat. Conner had already noticed this behavior back in October as time had drawn nearer and nearer to Halloween, his peers conversations would be dominated by the upcoming holiday and what their plans were, etc. However, while Halloween had been fun, they had not gotten time off from school for it, for the upcoming holiday of Thanksgiving the school was giving them not only the Thursday it fell on off, but also the following Friday. That seemed a little inefficient to the laboratory-grown genomorph, but he reflected that the schools had been doing this allot longer than he had. The thing that really annoyed him was that the damn day was still almost two weeks away and people insisted on pestering him about his plans.

He didn't have any plans. He was an artificially created clone of an alien superhero, he didn't care about human holidays as a whole and he thought even less of ones that were only observed by one (extremely egocentric) country on the globe. (Hm, he seemed to be feeling a tad grumpy today.)

M'gann on the other hand was her usually bubbly self around their schoolfellows. She smiled and chatted with Karen, Windy, Mal and Marvin about how she wanted to do something fun with her 'other friends' but that they were all having Thanksgiving dinner with their respective families and so it would just be her and Conner.

At that Windy's eyes had gone a bit wide, "Wait a minuet! Do you two _live_ together!"

Conner suppressed a groan as M'gann quickly back peddled. "We –we, well, ya see… the thing is… Conner and I…"

This was one situation in which Conner had absolutely no idea what to do. He knew that a minor could not live on their own without a parent or guardian unless they sued for emancipation and were capable of supporting themselves. So, his classmates would never believe that they lived on their own like roommates. They might believe that one of them had won an emancipation suit, but not both of them, compound that with the unlikelihood of two emancipated teenagers finding each other and co-hebetating. No, that story wouldn't work. But then the other option was that they lived with their parents (or legal guardians) and that said parents allowed them to live together…?

Then the genomorph got an idea.

"My dad's friends with Magen's family." It wasn't a lie. Superman wasn't really his 'father', a more accurate description of their genetic relation would be to call them 'twins'. But, as Kent had pointed out just last night, people didn't think in terms of what was accurate but rather what was easier. The Man of Steel was his genetic-parent which to the average person equated to 'father'. And he was also friends with M'gann's uncle. "His work keeps him really busy, so he lets me stay with Magen."

He mentally congratulated himself on such a good cover story. This 'secret identity' thing wasn't all that hard after all.

"Right!" M'gann jumped on his story right away. "And my family's so big that we'd all rather do our own thing instead of try and cram everyone into one room together, so they're doing their own thing and it'll just be me and Conner!"

Karen's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So, let me get this strait, you and your boyfriend live together, in the same house, and your family is going away for Thanksgiving weekend and leaving you two alone together?"

"Yes?"

Suddenly, this cover story didn't sound all that great after all. Damn it! If only they knew more about human social codes. What they were describing seemed to be inappropriate in some way, but Conner couldn't see how. They were both semi-responsible people whom their partially-fictitious adults trusted for one weekend unsupervised. What was the problem?

In the end, neither Connor nor M'gann had been able to talk themselves out of the ditch they'd fallen in with their schoolmates. The conversation –interrogation- had only ended when the bell rang (splintering Conner's ears, as it always did) and summoning everyone to class. 'Saved by the bell.'

By the time lunch rolled around the crew seemed to have forgotten the conversation all together, much to M'gann and Conner's combined relief. That was one of the great virtues teenagers possessed, the inability to care about things outside of themselves for very long (it was also one of teenagers' greatest failings, but not in this instance). By lunch, everyone had forgotten about the conversation and, if they did remember, by the time school let out that day no one cared. Apathy can be a wonderful thing.

…

Clark usually tried to detach himself from his articles when writing. He tried his best to just give the facts without inserting any of his own personal bias. It was in this manner that he had typed up the first draft of his interview with Superboy. But Clark found it exceedingly difficult to maintain that distance when proofreading. The kryptonian reporter found it extremely difficult to compartmentalize while reading (in his own words no less) how he had neglected the boy and how that rejection and neglect had hurt him so deeply. Under any _normal_ circumstances his behavior would have been classified as 'child abuse'.

He relocated his work on the final draft to his desk at the Planet first thing in the morning. He figured that in the environment of Clark Kent he would be better equipped to distance himself from the persona of Superman and finish his edits with a clear (well, clearer) head than he would at home where he was himself –where he was both Clark and Superman together. The Man of Steel had not, however, taken Lois' nosy habits and desire to know everything about everything into account.

Clark groaned in frustration while she stood behind his chair, attempting to read over his shoulder.

"Ya know, Smallville, this piece makes Superman out to be a jerk." She crossed her arms over her chest and struck her trademark 'Lois Pose', dropping one hip, causing her skirt on the opposite side to rise ever-so-slightly, exposing some thigh. Clark both loved and hated that pose of hers. On the one hand, it did accent her fetching feminine features very pleasingly, but on the other hand that pose was also almost always the prelude to a berating barrage of belittlement that (sometimes) left him wondering why he ever bothered to catch her when she fell. Lane tapped her high-heeled foot in irritation and Clark's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her shapely legs. Oh, yeah, that was why.

Snapping his eyes back up to her face, the reporter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said with a shrug. "I just tell it how it is, Lois. Its up to the reader to interpret it however they like."

"Right, Smallville, you're completely free of bias." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and distain. "Anyway, what makes you think the kid's telling the truth about any of that?" She lifted her chin to his computer monitor.

'_Because I was there that night that he was rescued from Cadmus and I've read the YJ reports and, oh yeah, I'm Suprman.' _"What makes you think he's not?"

"Maybe Superman's already told me the truth about the kid. Did you ever think of that, Smallville?"

Clark suppressed a snort. He had been very, very careful not to mention or even allude to Superboy around Lois (both as Superman and as Clark) since the boy was first discovered back in July. He didn't quite know how to open up the subject to her; neither did he know what he would say about the boy. No matter what he said, he was sure Lois would draw her own conclusions, being the freethinking person she was. He just wanted to make sure she formed the right conclusions. "Oh? Then why haven't you printed any Superboy stories yourself?"

Why did this suddenly feel like a school-yard pissing contest? Oh, right, because prior to last week Lois Lane was the 'Ultimate Authority' on all things Super in Metropolis. Then Superboy waltzes into Perry's office bold as you pleas and asked for Clark Kent by name. Suddenly, Lane's got competition for the position of 'Super-Authority' and the pseudo-status that went along with it. Gotta love a woman who knows what she wants and isn't willing to back down from a little healthy competition.

"Obviously, Superman asked me to keep it quiet." Lois shot back.

This time Clark _did_ snort. "You? Pass up an excusive story like that?" He placed a hand to his heart. "Oh, heaven help us! I think that's one of the signs of the apocalypse, the world is at an end!"

"Joke all you want, Smallville." She growled out. "But I made a personal promise that I'd never print anything that would hurt the Big Guy. I would have thought that a nice guy like you would also cut him a break."

It was nice to see that, as Superman at least, he had earned Lois' undying loyalty… and all he had to do was save her life a hundred _million_ times. Hm, that was a little unfair. He seemed to be feeling a tad pessimistic today. Clark swiveled back around to finish up his final edits before turning it into Perry. "My job is to report the news, Lois. So, that's what I do."

"Ya know what?"

"What?"

"Grr. Nothing. I'm going up to the roof."

Clark couldn't help but shoot one final remark after her retreating heels. "Should have worn a shorter skirt, he might think you're playing hard-to-get in that one!"

"Eat me!" She shouted back over the bull pin.

God, he loved that woman! Why, oh, why was that stubborn, head-strong, willfully independent, little muckraker so damn attractive to him?

"Superman! I need to talk to you!" He heard her shouting from the roof. Ah, what a wonderful thing super-hearing can be. It allowed him to be serenaded by the gentle and affectionate calls of the sweet and tempered Lois Lane. "Get your red and blue tights wearing ass over here!"

Yes, so sweet. Clark printed out his finished interview and stood.

"I have some questions about Superboy!"

Clark waded his way through the bull pin taking extra care to be especially clumsy and slow.

"If you're not here by the count of five, I'm going to jump!"

Clark paused at Perry's door. No… she wouldn't… Yes. Yes, she would!

"One…"

Clark leaned in the door, and dropped his interview on Perry's desk without comment.

"Two…"

He then zipped to the men's bathroom to pull off his shirt and slacks.

"Three…"

And then he was hovering above the roof of the Daily Planet. "You do realize there's a reason I gave Jimmy a watch and not you, right?" He offered her a crooked smile. "You can't just summon me whenever you're having a slow news day and want an exclusive." A chill wind ruffled her unseasonably short skirt. "And you should have dressed warmer if you planned on coming up here in the middle of November."

"Don't you start!" Lane snapped. Then her expression softened to one of concern. "Superman, I think its time you finally told me about the Superboy."

The Man of Steel heaved a sigh and floated down to stand on the roof in front of her. "Superboy is an uncomfortable subject."

"How so?" She pressed.

"He's… It's complicated." He rubbed the back on his neck in awkward discomfort. He had thought that explaining Superboy –Conner- to his mother would be the hardest part about all of this, but he had sat down with Ma and talked about Conner at great length. Telling all to Lois was proving to be much more difficult.

"Look, its okay, this will be completely off the record." She assured him. She reached a hand up to tuck a strand of her wind-tossed hair back behind her ear. "I might as well tell you that he did an interview with Clark and that Perry's most likely going to run it in tomorrow's paper. It would be nice to get your side of the story as well. To give it a bit of perspective."

"Superboy's talking to reporters now?" He put on his best 'surprised' face. "Hm, I'll be sure to read it."

"Superman, I'm serious!"

"Look, Lois, there's not really much that I can tell you about him." He confessed. "All I knew is that some secret laboratory got a hold of a sample of my DNA somehow and managed to clone me. Superboy is that clone. But I haven't really dealt with him much beyond that. There are other members of the Justice League better suited to dealing with kids than I am."

"Don't give me that. You're great with kids! I've seen you!" She crossed her arms over her chest and struck the same pose she used on Clark Kent no more than five minuets ago. "What's the _real _reason you seem to be keeping your distance from him? Kent's article is painting him like some innocent little lost puppy and you like a negligent…" She paused in search of a kinder way of saying 'deadbeat'. "I just hate it when you get bad press."

"You can't censor every negative thing printed about me, Lois."

"I'm not trying to 'censor' anything!" Lane was professionally insulted. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

Clark felt the sudden compulsion to kiss her but he stamped the feeling back down. "A little bad press never hurt anyone." He assured her. "You can't please everyone all the time. And besides, it'd look a little suspicious if all the papers ever have to say about me is sunshine and rainbows."

"Superman…"

"But, thank you for your concern, Lois." He offered her a gentle smile. "It really… means allot to me…"

…

Homework was done promptly after returning to the Cave on weekdays. Not because Conner and M'gann were particularly studious young people, but because the sooner it was out of the way, the sooner they could move on to more important things such as training (if Canary dropped by), the study of Earth culture (in the case of M'gann) or quietly sitting in front of the television staring blankly at the static (in the case of Conner).

Science was done in a snap for the kryptonian genomorph. Math took a little longer only because his teacher required that he write out each step of the equation before jotting down the answer (useless busy work, in his opinion). History was easy up to a point. Conner knew all the facts and could answer all the short-answer questions assigned but he had trouble when he came to the subjective ones such as 'What did this mean for the (BLANK)?', or, 'How do you suppose the (BLANK) would have been different if (BLANK)?' These questions gave Conner trouble because there was no one answer to them and Cadmus had never thought to program him with useless hypotheticals from by-gone eras.

But as much trouble as history gave him, it was nothing compared to English. He could read at the level of a doctoral candidate, the reading of the material wasn't the issue. His reading comprehension was on the same level, understanding what he was reading was not the problem. What he could not do was interpret what the hell the author was trying to convey without flat-out telling the reader 'this is how you should think'. Period pieces and social commentaries were utterly lost on him. Prior to a few month ago he had never experienced any culture first hand and so had no real reference point with which to calibrate his cultural compass and so found it very difficult to understand Hester's plight, Chillingworth's scorn, or Dimmesdale's self-inflicted torment. It all seemed so stupid to him. Why couldn't they read something of value, like Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_, or Plato's _The Republic_? Those were books he knew and understood.

Finally, after he had suffered through enough of Hawthorn to finish his assignment, Conner heaved a heavy sigh of relief and leaned back from the coffee table where he and M'gann had been working. "I hate this book."

M'gann looked up from her own paper, she had apparently written considerably more than he had. "Its not that bad. I kinda like the drama."

Conner gave a snort of distain.

"Well, since you seem to be done with your homework, do you wanna help me with this bit of physics I've been putting off." She pushed her copy of _The Scarlet Letter_ and the paper she was writing on it aside and pulled out her physics textbook and a clean sheet of notebook paper.

"No." But with a sigh, Conner stood and walked around to the other side of the table where she sat and knelt down beside her anyway. It was an easy set of exercises; the issue arose from the manner in which the textbook tried explaining them. (That was one of the reasons why Conner rarely worked directly off the book, its like it had been written for an idiot but idiots couldn't understand complicated concepts so the textbook was mostly just filled with convoluted similies and a great deal of repetition.) After working with her for a little while M'gann started to get the hang of it on her own and he moved back to his side of the table (without a thank you kiss, hm, she was still acting weird).

After homework, Conner turned on the TV but not the cable box, satellite or Nexflix and instead stared blankly at the static on the screen. M'gann still hadn't figured out why he did this, but she'd grown used to it by this point and so set herself to work making dinner. Upon opening the 'fridge, however, she decided that reheating this morning's breakfast feast would be a much more practical strategy. Perhaps she had been a little over zealous this morning, but she had been feeling guilty over keeping Superman's identity from Conner ever since her conversation with Robin.

The Man of Steel had asked her to give him time to tell Conner himself, and Robin had agreed that that was the best plan, so that was what she was doing –giving Superman a chance to make things right with Conner his way. But she hated hiding it from him. It made her feel like she was lying to him, and that left a bad taste in her mouth. Their relationship had been built on mutual trust (and one very tense life-or-death mission). But by honoring Superman's request for silence she felt she was violating that trust. It made M'gann feel like a terrible girlfriend.

"We need a better cover story." Conner randomly said over the TV static.

"Huh?" She blinked up from the sausage and bacon she was taking out of the microwave.

"For when we get asked questions about our personal lives, like today." He elaborated, turning his attention from the TV static and leaning an arm over the back of the couch to look at her. "Mr. Kent explained to me that 'secret identities' protected the normal people in our lives as much as they protected us. We should collaborate our stories beforehand from now on."

"Okay." She nodded. "What are Magen Morse and Conner Kent doing next week for Thanksgiving?"

"Something apparently socially unacceptable if Karen's reaction is anything to go by." He stood and walked out from behind the couch, crossing the room to the kitchen where she stood.

"'Unacceptable'…" M'gann echoed in mock horror. "Could Conner Kent and Magen Mores be… _bad kids_!"

"I donno…" Conner shook his head, picking up her cue. "I hear they spend their weekends sneaking into places they shouldn't and getting into fights with some real shady characters. Those two are trouble. And have you seen the gang they hand out with outside of school…?"

"How awful! Do their parents know!"

"In all seriousness, though." Conner cut off their light-hearted play right there. Talk of 'parents' made him uncomfortable. "We do need a better cover story. Batman says to try and keep a distance between your hero persona and civilian persona, so… I guess civilian Conner Kent can't be anything like Superboy and civilian Magen Morse can't be anything like Miss Martian."

"That'll be a little difficult…" Magen admitted. "I'm not sure I could keep up an act like that all day every day."

"We managed to keep up our act fairly well during the Belle Reve mission." Conner reminded her.

"_You_ managed to keep your act up. I got iced, remember?"

"Right." He winced at the memory. "Sorry. I wonder how the grown-ups in the League do it? Lead two lives as two completely different people…"

"Years of practice, I guess." M'gann shrugged. She thought about how Superman never wore a mask while doing his hero'ing and how Clark Kent had seemed to morph from a mild-mannered reporter into the Man of Steel without the slightest actual physical change. It had all been in his posture, tone of voice, mannerism, and his air or presence.

Superman never wore a mask and all Clark Kent wore to obscure his face were glasses, yet no one ever seemed to make a connection between the two. Well… obviously, Batman had at some point otherwise how else would Robin know when he was. But aside from the Dark Knight and his little bird, no one seemed to notice that they were the same person. Conner had noticed, but then quickly convinced himself that it wasn't true, that they were two completely different people. Somehow, Superman… Clark Kent… Kal-El… _whatever_ had managed to create the perfect disguise for himself without ever bothering to don a mask and he did it by hiding in plain sight. That was a level of 'secret identity' brilliance that neither she nor Conner could hope to achieve any time soon, being the green kids that they were.

Conner sighed. "Years, huh."

…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Ten:

Kent's interview of the Superboy ran in the Tuesday edition of the _Daily Planet_. It was not a cover story. Lane had managed to dig up a story about some little nothing of a company called Powers Technology and made it out to be some great 'David' of a corporation that could possibly take on 'Goliaths' like Wayne Enterprises one day. Yeah right, like _that_ could ever happen. It was an interesting story, and he supposed would be big-doings in the business world, but it wasn't really first page material in Conner's opinion.

He found his interview with Kent on page six. "Why does this make me sound like a little lost orphan?"

"Let me see?" He passed the paper to M'gann and ate his breakfast in silence while she read. "He doesn't make you seem any different than what you seem like to me."

"Oh, god! Is that how people see me?"

She only shrugged. "We always seem different through someone else's eyes than through our own."

…

Richard 'Dick' Grayson, ward of 'Gotham Prince' Bruce Wayne, casually perused a copy of the _Daily Planet_ as he reclined in the backseat of the sleek black limousine affectionately referred to as 'the car' by Alfred. He usually did not bother with the papers so early in the mornings and when he did it was usually the _Daily Gotham_ or _News of the Planet_ (once the _Gotham Truth Rag_, but only because the cover story was 'Bat Boy' –no relation to Batman, they lifted the story from _Weekly World News_). But today he was looking over the _Planet_, looking for one article in particular –checking up on his latest project.

He couldn't say he was surprised that it was run on the sixth page, it wasn't exactly Earth-shattering news, but Dick had to admit that he was a little disappointed to not have crafted a head-line worthy of more attention. Maybe next time… he still had four other teammates to work off of. All and all, this was turning out to be a rather nice first project.

Well, phase one was now complete, time for phase two. Dick reached into an inside pocket of his Gotham Academy blazer (an inside pocket he'd added himself, he had made several augmentations to his school uniform in semi-classical Batman-like style) and withdrew a small ear-bud communicator, not the sort of thing one would expect to find on a freshman (or any student for that matter). He placed the bud in his ear for just a quick call.

…

Superboy was just zipping up his backpack when his YJ comm. buzzed softly. Curious and hopeful for a mission that would be worlds more stimulating than public high school, he placed the bud in his ear. "This is Superboy. Go ahead."

"Hey, Con, no need to be all serious."

"Robin?" Conner was ever so slightly confused. They were deployed on missions by Batman, not his little bird.

"I just read Kent's article on you."

He was calling about the article in the Planet. So… they didn't have a mission? Conner suddenly found that his excitement had flagged. "Look, Rob, I gotta get to school. So, unless you've got something important to say I'm hanging up. And I don't think your mentor would much like you using YJ comms for social calls."

"Right, right, I'm on my way to school too. So this'll be quick." The Boy Wonder assured him. "I just wanted to know if you're gonna keep seeing Kent? Ya know, like make him your 'press agent' or whatever. Like Lane is Superman's."

"I… Hadn't really thought about it…" The Boy of Steel admitted. "I don't see why."

"I think you should." It was irrational to think, but when Robin said that Conner could have sworn he _heard_ an 'evil grin'. But that was ridiculous, no matter how super-human your hearing was, you couldn't 'hear' facial expressions. "Its good to have some non-superhero friends to talk to about normal-like stuff."

"I don't have any 'normal-like' stuff." The Superboy growled. He slipped his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm heading out now. You've got five seconds to make your final statements."

"Oh, come on! Don't be like that." Robin whined in his ear. "I'm sure you've got _something_ to complain about from your school! I can't imagine Tornado being very sympathetic about that. Or girls! You can't talk to a robot about girls!"

"Girls?" Conner echoed. His mind immediately jumped to M'gann and the wanton need and heat she elicited in him.

"Oh! There's my school!" Robin suddenly sounded hurried. "Anyway, I gotta go! Great talking with you."

…

Dick switched off his comm. and replaced it in his inside pocket, a satisfied smirk on his face as 'the car' pulled up to Gotham Academy. He was no Batman, but he thought he was doing rather well at this whole manipulating people thing. He though himself rather clever as he stepped out through the car door that Alfred held open for him.

"Why do you look so smug?" Barbara was leaning against a pillar when he stepped out.

"Oh… no reason…"

…

Clark paced his condo's living room dressed half way between Superman and Clark Kent. He wore kaki slacks and penny loafers but was still sans his button-up blue-collar shirt and blazer. His bright red cape trailed behind him as he paced, debating whether or not he should got to Mount Justice as Superman and catch Superboy –Conner- before he went to school or if he should go into work as Clark Kent like normal and wait for the boy's classes let out.

School was important, but at the same time how safe was it to allow him to continue attending school when he didn't have full control over his strength? He'd managed to go two and a half months without incident so far, but how long could that last? He hadn't known that Bruce was going to dump the boy in the public school system; he would have thought that the Batman would have been smarter than that. If he'd known ahead of time what the Dark Knight had planned to do, he would have taken responsibility for the boy much sooner, not so much for himself or for Superb- for Conner, but to protect the other students.

Wait a moment; did the boy even really need school? He had said that he possessed an encyclopedic knowledge, so it wasn't exactly like he was in desperate need of a formal education. It was best to get this first real conversation of theirs out of the way and over with as quickly as possible. Ma had given him a deadline after all.

But what kind of hero and role model would he be if he took Superb –Conner out of school for a day for no other reason than just to talk?

A voice in the back on his head (that sounded suspiciously like Lois) told him that he was just making excuses because he was afraid of facing the boy as Superman. Sure, he could sit and talk with him as timid, mild-mannered Clark Kent. The boy didn't have any expectations of Clark Kent, the boy didn't look at him and see high shining unreachable pillar what he was supposed to be but could never be, no, the boy just saw another normal weak human being. Clark could talk to the boy as Clark, but as Superman he had no idea what he would say, or even what he should say.

'_Stop whining and grow a back-bone, Smallville!_' Said the little-Lois in his head. When had she become the voice in his head?

Well, if he didn't decide soon, the decision would be made for him. Supe –Conner's classes would start and he did _not _want to show up at his school as Superman and request to take the boy out, and he _couldn't_ do that as Clark Kent.

'_Suck it up, buttercup._' In his mind's eye the little-Lois in his head struck her trademark pose and glared at him.

Clark gave a very un-Superman-like growl of frustration and sat down on his living room couch to pull off his loafers. He left them haphazardly on the floor and pulled off his kaki slacks to reveal his full Superman raiment. As the little-Lois in his head said, he was just making excuses and he had put off this confrontation with Superboy long enough. Besides, his mother wanted him to bring the boy over for Thanksgiving. How was he going to get the boy there if he didn't open up communication between them?

Clark made a quick call to Lois on her cell phone informing her that he wouldn't be able to meet-up with her for coffee. He then coughed feebly into the phone and mentioned that he was feeling a bit under the weather and may not come into the office at all (he left it open, however, incase things went badly with the boy, he might still be able to get back to Metropolis and get some real work done). She made some comment about how fragile he was then insinuated that the _real _reason he didn't want to come into work was because he was afraid of what Superman would think of his little piece on the Superboy and he was trying to hide from the Big Guy. Sure, why not?

After that he paused only long enough to grab his own morning paper and then he was off, faster than a speeding bullet, to Rhode Island and Happy Harbor.

He descended just as the hangar door, the 'front door', was opening to allow a bright red but perfectly ordinary motorcycle to exit. The Man of Steel landed directly in the bike's path, feet planted, arms at his sides, newspaper clutched in one hand. The bike swerved to avoid him, but it hadn't worked up much momentum yet, so there was no danger (to the bike, he highly doubted a little fast swerving and hard breaking could hurt its riders much). The two climbed off the bike and pulled off their helmets (it was nice to see that they went through the formality of actually wearing head protection).

"S-Superman?" Conner gapped at him wide-eyed.

Clark had no idea what he had planned to say. Oh right, he _hadn't_ planned anything to say. He was just as clueless as the boy in front of him looked.

Then J'onn's niece broke the silence for them both. She placed a hand on Superboy's shoulder and said, "I'm gonna go on ahead. Why don't you take the day off? I'll say you got sick or something."

"But, uh, I don't get sick." The boy protested.

"But they don't know that." The Martian girl reminded him. She glanced to Superman, held his gaze for a moment then turned away. Replacing her helmet on her head, she remounted the bike and sped off in the direction if the town-proper, leaving the two kryptonians alone.

Hazy gray clouds drifted lazily overhead while the two men glared at each other wordlessly. Lord, this was awkward! And it had all sounded so simple and easy when he had been talking to Ma. What was it about mothers that made everything seem better?

"So…" The boy began but then trailed off without finishing.

"Gloomy weather we're having." Superman commented, and then mentally kicked himself. _'The weather, Clark, really?' _He cleared his throat. "I read your interview."

"I assumed." The boy tilted his chin to indicate the newspaper the Man of Steel still clutched in his hand.

"Right." He nodded. "I, uh… I guess I came to apologize." He unfolded the paper and looked over the interview as if doing so would magically provide him with something to say. It did not. "I realize my behavior towards you hasn't exactly been… admirable…"

"Superman," the boy interrupted him and Clark was more than happy to be cut off. "Look, something was explained to me recently… about men and responsibility, and… well, I didn't completely understand all of it. There was something about other people's expectations and a bit about fear of responsibility or parenthood, I think. But basically, what I could make out from it is that you might have gotten the wrong idea about me and what I want from you."

The boy paused, avoided eye contact, and studied his feet very intently.

"It was explained to me that people expected you to claim me as your son and that this put a lot of pressure on you… and that it might have scared you away from me." He looked up, his expression firm. "I want you to know that, regardless of whatever other impressions you might have gotten, I hold no illusions about our relation. I know that I'm an artificial person, I don't have parents and I never demanded them. When I asked you to teach me back in August, I was not asking you for anything more than just that."

Clark let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in. Bruce had been so insistent that he take the boy in as his own, perhaps the pressure had made him weary and a little fearful of the boy. But it wasn't the boy who was asking for a father, it had been Bruce, all the boy wanted was a mentor all his own. And why not? All the other kids had their own mentors. In a way, Clark might have inadvertently been alienating the boy from the rest of the group by refusing to mentor him.

Superman cocked his head to the side, deciding to offer an olive branch. "Would you like to go to Metropolis?"

…

One short zetta-tube later Conner found himself soaring over the Metropolis skyline on Sphere in her Super-cycle form with none other than his genetic-parent, the Man of Steel, next to him –riding the winds under his own power, of course.

This was more than the genomorph could have hoped for. To be riding in the skies, patrolling the city, with his genetic-parent –the man he was supposed to be like. And the Man of Steel had been the one to invite _him_! He had not asked (much as he wanted to), no, Superman had _offered_. That fact made the Boy of Steel feel giddy with joy. He wanted to bombard the man with questions. What's it like being Superman? How does it feel to be the only kryptonian on a world of humans? How do you live everyday in a world made of cardboard? Do you remember Krypton? What was it like? Would you tell me about it? What does Kal-El mean? Would you give me a kryptonian name too?

No… not that last one. Not unless _Superman_ made the offer first.

He didn't ask any of his questions at all during that first flight, however. Conner was so nervous to finally be out with his idol, it was all he could do to keep himself from shaking with the sheer emotion of it all. And just underneath all his giddy pleasure was a lurking sense of disbelief. That this wasn't quite real or that if he said or did the wrong thing the Man of Steel would rethink his decision and send the boy back to Mount Justice and never agree to mentor him. Conner couldn't let that happen. All he ever wanted was to be like Superman, it was what he was made for. True, he was a free person now and didn't have to follow his programming –he didn't have to be another Superman. And he didn't want to –be another Superman, that is. But he did want to get to know the man.

Maybe on some level he really did want a 'father figure' of sorts. But as he had told the Man of Steel, he had no illusions of their relationship. He knew the man was not his father; he was more than well aware that creatures of his sort didn't have 'parents'; they only had 'creators'. But he had to admit that even for an artificially created person like himself, the idea of having a figure to look up to as a 'father' was very appealing. He wouldn't ask for that, though.

After talking to Kent and having the reporter explain to him about how the role of 'father' (as defined by society) was something that frightened most men, Conner had resolved not to ever mention it except to assure his genetic-parent that he had no such expectations of him. He didn't want to risk frightening him away again. If, after today (Conner viewed today's outing as a test or 'dry run' of sorts), the Man of Steel decided to take him on as a protégé then the best the boy would say he expected was to form a working relationship similar to the one that Kaldur currently has with his mentor and King, Aquaman. But, secretly, Conner would hope to eventually develop something similar to what Robin enjoys with Batman. That would be wonderful!

The boy was stirred from his uncharacteristically optimistic thoughts by the sound of police sirens screeching tires from the streets below.

Superman paused in his flight, glaring down. Conner pulled up on the Super-cycle, overshooting the Man of Steel's sudden stop, and swerved back around to pull alongside his genetic-parent. Superman turned to him, and hesitantly offered, "Wanna stop a police chase?"

"Do I!" The boy kicked his bike into a nose-dive.

"Superboy, wait!" Superman followed after.

Conner landed the cycle directly in the car's path and jumped off, placing himself between Sphere and the on-coming vehicle (she was a tough little machine, but he couldn't ask her to act as break-wall for him –he was supposed to be the break-wall). The driver's eyes went wide at seeing a teenager in a black and red Superman shirt fall out of the sky on a weird-ass motorcycle and plant himself squarely in the car's path. The driver slammed on the break and the tires let out a horrid strained screech that made the Boy of Steel wince. He brought his hand down on the hood of the car, stopping it dead, causing the car's tail end to buck upwards with the blocked momentum and slamming the driver hard against his seatbelt.

It was then that Superman landed next to him. "That's not how we stop cars."

"Huh?" The boy blinked in confusion as the perusing police surrounded them and the halted vehicle.

"What if he hadn't been wearing a seatbelt?" The Man of Steel continued, indicating the shell-shocked driver whom still sat wide-eyed gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. "You run the risk of seriously injuring someone like that, or possibly killing them even. You see it's a car's back tires that propel it; if you jump in front of it you'll stop its forward motion, but its still got its propulsion. Its better to lift the car from behind. That way the tail end of the car won't fly up and flip it. Hang on a minuet." Superman turned to the surrounding police as they were climbing out of their cars. "Morning, officers."

"Thank you for your help, Superman." The closest officer to them tipped his hat at the Man of Steel then his eyes shifted to Conner and he looked momentarily confused. "…And Super…kid?"

"Super_boy_." Conner corrected. He couldn't expect everyone to know his name after only one article that had been published so far back in the paper that few would notice it, but he did hope that he wouldn't be spending the rest of his superhero career correcting people.

"Superboy." The man amended, he then looked to Superman questioningly. "I didn't realize that you had a-"

"I was just showing Superboy around town when we heard your chase and thought we might lend you a hand." The Man of Steel cut him off before the word 'son' (or whatever he was going to say) could escape his lips.

"We appreciate the help." He tipped his hat again.

"You already said that." Conner stepped up, not really wanting Superman to speak for him. He wanted the man to respect him, but having others answer for him felt a bit like how Dr. Desmond had treated him at Cadmus.

"R-right." The officer nodded. "Well, just give me a sec to read this guy his Miranda Rights and then we'll get a start on those statements."

"Sure." Superman nodded.

"Statements?" Superboy blinked.

"Yes. Police statements." The Man of Steel nodded. "Here in Metropolis we work _with_ the authorities, not parallel to them."

"I can't imagine Batman ever stopping to fill out a police report." The boy grumbled.

"Well, I'm not Batman."

"I know that."

Cadmus had taught him about the Man of Steel and how he claimed to uphold the ideals of truth and justice and a convoluted set of socio-ethical ideas commonly called 'the American way'. But he hadn't realized just how stalwartly the man actually adhered to those ideals. For the first time since being awoken from his pod in Cadmus and joining Young Justice, Conner began to understand why Batman often referred to Superman as 'the Boy Scout' when he thought the Team wasn't listening. The man really _was _a boy scout! (… except, Batman was the one that was 'always prepared', go figure.)

The driver was pulled from his car, his hand placed on the mangled hood, as the police patted him down for weapons and his rights were read to him. He was handcuffed and shoved into the backseat of a black and white and driven away. A pair of officers then approached the two Supers to take their statements.

It was possibly one of the single most awkward things Conner had ever done in his life. His speech was halted and unsure as he gave his sort summary of events. But when he looked over at Superman for any sort of guidance or cue, he saw the man was smiling and joking with the officer taking his statement as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Of course, he probably did this over a dozen times a day; it probably was one of the most natural things in his world. And when the officer asked him to sign his statement his hand blurred over the bottom of the page without him ever missing a beat in the conversation.

"We have to sign these too?" The boy asked, suddenly unsure. He couldn't sign it 'Conner Kent', that was a given. How did Superman sign his police statements? Did he sign them 'Superman' and did the city police actually accept that? Or did he sign them 'Kal-El'?

"Just sign it 'Superboy'." The Man of Steel supplied.

Conner did as he was told and when he handed the document back to the officer he asked, "How does Superman sign them?"

"Oh him, he usually signs in that alien language of his, uh yours? Kryptonese."

"Kryptonian." The boy supplied.

"Yeah. That's it."

…

"That wasn't so bad." Superman commented later when they were once again airborne.

It was a comment more to himself than to the boy. It had been the first time he'd witnessed the boy respond to an incident from beginning to end and he had to admit, that for something that was created to be a living weapon, he preformed rather well. The situation had been dealt with quickly, there was no loss of life and the only injury was a case of whiplash. He did have to correct the boy on his method of detaining the car, had the circumstances been even slightly different it could have caused accidental loss of life. But other than that, the boy had done well.

"The police report thing was a little weird." The boy replied.

Clark turned to him. "How so?"

"I've never done something like that before." He explained. "I mean, I've filled out mission reports for Batman, but those are typed-up and submitted after he debriefs us. I've never stood there and had someone else take down my narrative for me. It was weird."

"You'll get used to it." Superman assured him.

"I will!" The Super-cycle skidded to a halt, or rather would have skidded if it had anything besides empty air to skid on. Superman also paused in flight and waited hovering in front of the boy who suddenly looked so vulnerable and full of hope, like that night at Cadmus only intensified thirty fold. "Does… does that mean you'll accept me as your protégé?"

Clark knew the correct response to that question should have been 'Yes'. The whole point of this outing was to make an effort to get to know the boy better. To make peace between the two of them and finally resolve their mutual issues. But still knowing all that, the Man of Steel found that he couldn't bring himself to say, 'Yes, Superboy, I will mentor you'. Instead he said, "We'll see. You're off to a good start."

It may not have been what he was supposed to have said, but it was by no means the _wrong_ thing, because instead of looking disappointed or saddened, the boy's expression changed to one of fierce determination. "Thank you." He said. "I won't disappoint you."

Clark didn't know what to say to that, so he only nodded.

They continued flying, making Superman's regular circuit of the city. It was as they were passing over Park Ridge, a very lovely suburb of Metropolis, when their ears detected a high frequency sound in the ultra-sonic range, and they both once again paused in flight.

"What is that?" Superboy put a hand to his ear as if to scratch an itch.

"Its Jimmy." Superman answered and turned his attention from the tranquil suburb below them across the city they'd just left to the main Metropolis power plant on the opposite side of the city. "C'mon. Lets go see what the emergency is."

As the pair sped back across the center of the city, the boy asked, "What kind of powers does this Jimmy have? Sonic manipulation? High frequency vibration? An alternate version of Black Canary's canary cry? How come I've never heard of him before?"

To all of these questions Clark couldn't help but give an amused chuckle.

"Did I make a joke?" The boy blinked. "I didn't mean to make a joke."

…

When they reached the power plant they found a gaping hole in the building's wall. With his X-ray vision, Clark scanned the inside of the plant to find Parasite sucking the juice from the hard lines in the plant's main generator room. Great. That was just what he needed today. To square off against an energy-sucking, power-stealing villain, with a completely green kid in tow.

He turned to the boy. "Okay, Superboy, you're job is to clear out the building. Make sure all the people get to safety."

"Understood." The boy nodded, that same expression of fierce determination on his face, he did not want to disappoint his idol. "Then I'll come back and help you."

"No." Clark said perhaps a little to quickly. "You just… you just keep everyone safe, remember our job is to protect people, not get our jollies off in a fight."

"Understood." The boy acknowledged with far less enthusiasm.

Now he once again looked like the sullen teen Clark was more used to seeing. But the Man of Steel didn't really have the time to comfort a broody adolescent at the moment. Instead he hoped the boy really did understand that personal feelings were supposed to be set aside to do the job. If he wanted to argue afterwards, Clark would be willing to listen to the teenager's self-entitled grumblings then. For now Superman said, "Good. Now we've both got our jobs to do. Let's go."

Superman dove through the air, making for the hole in the wall that Parasite had already opened up for him while Conner on the Super-cycle descended at a slightly more conservative rate.

The Man of Steel appeared as nothing more than a blue and red blur as he zoomed by terrified technicians fleeing the compound. He left them to be dealt with by Superboy, and realized that it was actually rather nice to have a bit of back-up to sweat the small stuff for him so that he could focus on the main threat. Maybe having a side-kick wouldn't be so bad after all. Hey, if Batman was willing to put up with having a teenager in tow when out on patrol or missions then there must be some benefit to having one.

Clark pulled up short when he entered the main generator room. No need to alert the energy and powers absorbing villain to his presence just yet. He would, of course, try and reason with Parasite first. Problems were always best solved with words rather than fists. But if (when) things did resort to a fight he would need to keep his distance, which meant he'd need a weapon. Clark scanned the room for something long and durable that wasn't utterly vital to the plant.

The chamber had big heavy piping, that could work. There was also a series of catwalks criss-crossing the above them that had thin but sturdy railings and those looked less vital than the piping. Okay, if it came to a fight, he'd go for the catwalk railing. With a tentative plan in mind, the Man of Steel floated forward (but still hovering out of arms reach) and said, "Hello, Rudy."

Conner, meanwhile, was directing people out and away from the building when he met the source of the ultra-sonic frequency that had brought him and Superman to the plant in the first place. A young man (in his mid-twenties, maybe) with hair redder than Wally's came rushing up to Superboy, a camera around his neck swinging to and fro as he jogged. He did something to the wristwatch he wore and the irritating noise was silenced.

"Ah, Superman, I'm glad you… You're not Superman!"

"No, I'm not." The Boy of Steel growled. He grabbed the man around the shoulders. "C'mon, exit's this way."

"Whoa! Hand on a minuet!" The red-head protested. "The actions that way! If you're not Superman then are you the Superboy? My friend wrote an article on you. Hey, how about a picture?"

Conner did not pause in his steps when he looked sideways at the man in his arm and asked, "Are you serious?"

"Serious as a heart-attack." The man smiled.

Superboy could not believe the man. Wasn't he at all scared of whatever had attacked the plant? Didn't he think it might be dangerous to hang around snapping pictures? Conner set the man down outside. "Look, after this is over you can ask Superman. Right now I'm working."

"So, Superman's here too." The red-head nodded as if confirming something he'd already guessed. "Cool beans." And he tried dashing back into the building.

"Hold it!" Conner stopped him. "My orders are to get everyone out and keep you out of harms way."

"Tt, don't worry, kid, I'll be fine." The man scoffed. "This isn't my first time." And he was once again ducking under the Superboy's arm and dashing back into the plant.

The Boy of Steel let out a snarl of frustration and went running after red-haired shutter-bug. He wished sourly that he had Superman's super-speed. This damn photographer was pretty light and quick on his feet and to spite his super-human abilities, Superboy didn't catch up with him until they had made it to the complex's main generator room.

…


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Eleven:

Clark hadn't expected Rudy Jones, otherwise known as Parasite, to surrender no matter how reasonable he made his argument sound, but still the Man of Steel had to try. It was always better to try and solve conflicts with words rather than fists. But Clark also hadn't expected Jimmy and Superboy to come barging into the main generator room, something Superman seemed to remember expressly telling the boy _not_ to do.

"Got ya!" The Superboy grabbed the photographer just as he brought his camera to bear.

"Man! You messed up my shot!" He whined with little to no concern for the very real and present danger that he'd just run full-boar into. Oh, Jimmy, you've been spending far to much time with Lois.

Parasite's attention, however, passed right over Superman's personal paparazzi and focused on the boy with him, a boy whom had Superman's face just a few years younger and sported the S-shield in red boldly on his chest. "You've been holdin' out on me, Supes." He said. "All this time, I had no idea you had a kid!"

"He's not my son!" Superman was quick to deny (with perhaps a touch more vigor than he should have).

While at the exact same time the boy said, "He's not my father."

"Ah, so its like that then." The energy-sucking, powers-stealing meta looked from one to the other before settling back on Superboy and extending his hand in what (on any other person) would have been a friendly gesture. "My old man was no real prize either, kid. Shake?"

"_Don't touch him!"_ Superman and Jimmy both choired.

"All right, Rudy," the Man of Steel drew Parasite's attention back to himself and away from Superboy and Jimmy. As far as Clark was concerned they were _both_ possible collateral damage, he didn't really know Superboy and couldn't depend on him in a fight. "This is you're last chance, give yourself up quietly and no one gets hurt."

It didn't work (and really, when did it ever work?), but Clark still had to try. Peaceful solutions were always the best solutions. Still, while he was disappointed, he was not surprised when Parasite rushed him with an expression half-way between a snarl and a grin, saying, "How 'bout no."

Superman reacted instantly. Zipping up to the catwalks above and ripping out a long segment of railing for himself. He swung at Parasite, smacking the energy-sucking villain away. Rudy hit the ground with a thud and a groan. Raising and shaking his head as if to clear it, he glared murderously up at the Man of Steel.

Never one to give up on the possibility of a passive solution, Clark tried one more time, "It doesn't have to be this way, Rudy."

"Oh, but I think it should." The purple and white patterned Parasite grinned and once again leapt up to try and grab at the hovering hero. "You're a much tastier morsel than sterile life-less electricity."

"Gross." Superboy commented as he leapt to intercept the fell villain before he could reach his idol and swung a punch at the Parasite.

"Superboy, don't-!" Clark shouted.

But it was to late. Superboy's fist connected with Parasite's cheek. The boy let out a yelp of surprise and fell back. He stared at his hand in shock before looking back up at Rudy just in time to see the parasitic meta-human rushing towards him, but not nearly soon enough to evade the villain. Parasite's hand closed around the boy's wrist and he cried out in something akin to pained-shock while the parasitic meta-human grinned with malicious glee.

"_Superboy!"_ The Man of Steel exclaimed and swung his railing at the Parasite once again. The makeshift weapon bent around the meta-villain without budging him an inch. Great, he had absorbed the boy's invulnerability, and he would have the boy's invulnerability for the next twelve hours. That was just fan-freaking-tastic. Superman dropped his weapon; it had just become useless. Rudy dropped the boy's arm; he was done with him anyway, and turned to grin at the Man of Steel.

Superboy fell groaning to the ground. Thank Rao he was still alive! Ma would never forgive him if he allowed the boy to get himself killed before he had the chance to bring him home for her to meet.

"Jimmy, take care of Superboy for me!" Clark didn't bother to make sure he was heard. Jimmy had plenty of experience in these kinds of situations to know what to do. He'd do what he could to help Superman while dodging flack and shrapnel and ricocheting debris, and climbing over the cracked and torn battle ground, and still somehow manage to photo-document the whole thing. Clark didn't have to worry about Jimmy. Right now his top priority was subduing Parasite without getting himself and his powers sucked out in the process.

Clark ripped out a segment of exposed heavy piping and, swinging it like an over-sized bat, knocked Rudy through a far wall. He crashed through the drywall and paneling as if it were nothing (and with Superboy's invulnerability and strength it probably was nothing), and landed in what looked like a staff lounge if the furniture and vending machines were anything to go by.

Parasite stood and brushed dust and debris off himself. He was about to launch himself back at the Man of Steel, but Superman acted faster, hitting him a second time with the heavy pipe and knocking him through the other wall and subsequently out of the building into the parking lot beyond.

Jimmy, for his part, attempted to lift the prostrate Superboy back to his feet. Not an easy task considering that kryptonian body mass was twice as dense as a human's causing him to weigh twice as much as a normal teenage boy of his same height. In the end, all the photographer managed to do was roll the boy over onto his side.

Superboy gave another groan and propped himself up on one arm, his other hand going to his head as if he were dizzy. "Ugh… what happened?"

Jimmy snapped a picture of the still dazed Boy of Steel before he was aware enough to offer any protest then asked, "Do the words 'don't touch him' mean something else in clone-speak?"

It sounded a bit more scathing than he'd meant it, but Jimmy honestly wanted to know. Clark's article had mentioned that his education had been 'uploaded' rather than actually learned. There might be certain things he just wouldn't understand if the speaker didn't use the correct semantics. (Although, he couldn't really think of any other ways '_don't touch'_ could be interpreted.)

"What…?" Asked the Superboy groggily. Then his no longer so acute hearing picked up the noise of his genetic-parent's battle with Parasite and he was suddenly trying to climb back to his feet. "Superman!"

"Whoa there, sport." Jimmy attempted to sooth. "You just got juiced by Parasite, it's okay to take a breather. I promise, the Big Guy won't hold it against ya."

'Take a breather'… He meant to sit down and let Superman fight something like that alone? No! Today was his one chance, the one chance he'd been hoping for since he first opened his eyes in his Cadmus pod all those months ago. His chance to prove his worthiness to his genetic-parent. He'd already messed up by allowing the photographer –Jimmy, Superman had called him- to drag him away from his crowd control duties and then he'd gone and gotten himself knocked-out of the fight by rushing in without knowing what he was up against. If Superman were Batman he'd have kicked Conner off the mission and sent him home by now.

He staggered to the hole in the wall between the generator room and lounge and leaned on the crumbling drywall for balance. "Ugh, why do I feel like crap?"

"That's his power." Jimmy explained, coming up behind the boy. "Parasite will steal the energy and powers of a person when he touches them."

"That's why Superman's keeping his distance." The boy assessed as he watched his genetic-parent swat at the purple and white patterned meta-human.

"Pretty much. But don't worry, its not permanent." Jimmy brushed passed the genomorph through the gaping hole in the wall and into the destroyed lounge. In a moment of mild moral ambiguity he grabbed the warped leg of a metal chair and pried open one of the smashed vending machines, withdrawing from it a dented but otherwise unbroken bottle of orange juice. This he passed to the not-quite-so-super Superboy. "Here, drink this."

The kryptonian clone looked at the plastic bottle skeptically. "Are you serious?"

"It'll help." The photographer insisted. He shoved the bottle into the boy's hands, then fished back in the machine for a bottle of Coke for himself. Damn, the only unbroken ones were diet. Ah well, you take what you can get.

"I didn't see you get touched." Superboy looked at him with a mixture of confusion and accusation. He then turned his glance to the juice he held in his own hand. "Wouldn't this be stealing?"

"Think of it more as 'requisitioning some mid-battle hydration'." Jimmy smiled at him and twisted the cap of his Diet Coke, which proceeded to spray all over him. Instant karma.

Conner thought about that for a moment. If the bottle beverage did help him recover from Parasite's touch faster, then perhaps it wouldn't be so bad that the redheaded photographer appropriated them. As a member of Young Justice, the covert subdivision of the Justice League of America, he was required to uphold and stand by what was right. But if taking a couple of drinks from a broken soda machine helped him help Superman save the day then it was alright… right? Yeah. Besides, if Kid Flash had been here no only would he not have hesitated, but the soda machine and the adjacent candy machine would have already been emptied out.

Conner twisted the cap of his orange juice and sipped it slowly while trying to pick his way across the devastated room on unsteady legs. He paused again to lean against the other crumbling hole in the wall and shivered at how suddenly cold it was outside in stark contrast to the warmth inside. A chill November wind ruffled his hair and bit at his exposed forearms. Drear god! He knew it was supposed to be winter but was this what 'winter' felt like for normal people! For people without powers? Was this why his classmates wore such bulky looking jackets when outside? This was awful!

He looked to where Superman was hovered in the air just a little above the maximum height that he –Conner- could jump, or more accurately, the maximum height that Parasite was jumping. The damn energy-sucking power-stealing bastard! For once in his short life, the boy was actually glad he didn't have all of Superman's powers. At least this way the Man of Steel still had the upper hand. But was there a way he could still help? Or had he done enough already and should he just wait for Superman to clean up his mess, come and scold him and then proclaim to never want to see him again? He stood just inside the broken wall (where it was warmer) and sulked on that for a while listening to the battle which now sounded faint and far off though it was only a few meters away. Was this the level of normal people's hearing?

Jimmy stood in the gaping hole snapping pictures. He had changed the lens of his camera to get better shots of the battle from far away.

"You look cold." The photographer commented as he paused long enough to switch out his camera's memory card for an empty one.

Conner gave a wordless grunt of frustration at him.

"Drink your juice. You'll get some energy back." He lifted his camera back to his face and stepped out of the building for a better angle. Then exclaimed with a bit of shocked excitement, "Whoa, what is _that_! Some freaky motorcycle?"

Conner poked his head out to find Sphere had come around the building, presumably drawn by the battle and looking for him. Then the Boy of Momentarily-Not-Steel got an idea. He may no longer have his powers, but he still had a friend and was exceedingly stubborn, he could still help.

"Sphere, you are _beautiful_!" He exclaimed, throwing down the orange juice he'd been given and dashed out to hop on the Super-cycle. He tried his best to push aside the feeling of the frigid November air against his exposed skin; if he stayed active he'd warm up quick enough. That was how it worked for normal people, right?

"That thing's yours?" Jimmy was appropriately wide-eyed for only half a second before he once again brought his camera to bear and was taking shots of the Superboy riding the Super-cycle.

Conner didn't pause to correct the photographer that Sphere wasn't a 'thing' she was a friend. There would be time for that later. Right now he needed to redeem himself in the eyes of his genetic-parent. He flew Sphere up to where the Man of Steel hovered, still clutching his heavy pipe.

"Superman- "

"You should get out of here." His genetic-parent cut him off before the boy could even get out once sentence. He momentarily turned his attention from the boy to smack Parasite back down again.

"I can help!" The boy protested.

"You've done enough!" The Man of Steel snapped.

"But I-"

Superman threw his metal pipe down on top of the temporarily grounded Parasite and used his heat-vision to weld the ends to the asphalt in a makeshift restraint. It wouldn't hold him long, but it would at least be long enough for the kryptonian hero to dispatch his clone. He turned his attention back to the boy.

"Go. Home. _Now!_" Then he backpedaled when he noticed that the kid was shivering in the wind with lips beginning to turn blue. Of course, with his invulnerability gone he was susceptible to cold like any normal human being, but unlike a normal human he had not dressed for the weather. Add that to the fact that the boy now looked like he was about to cry from his harsh words... Damn it! Side-kicks were high maintenance! How did Bruce do this? The Man of Steel took off his cape and draped it over the boy's shoulders to give him what warmth it offered. "Have some chicken soup and hot tea with lemon." Below them, Parasite broke free of his restraints. "_Now go!"_

That was it. He'd messed-up too much and his genetic-parent hated him for it. Superman wanted him gone so that he couldn't do any more damage. He'd never train him now. Conner wanted to protest, to insist that he could still help if Superman would just let him. But at this point, he reflected, it wouldn't succeed in doing anything but just irritating his genetic-parent further. Superman didn't want him here. Superman didn't want him at all.

A very sullen looking Superboy did as he was told and sped off in the direction of Metropolis' concealed zetta-tube, the cold unforgiving weight of despair settling over his dramatically weakened shoulders. He pulled Superman's thin red cape more tightly around himself. He had messed up. His genetic-parent hated him and would never mentor him now…

As the not-quite-so-super Superboy sped through the air on his flying alien cycle, it began to snow.

…

Conner was glad for the zetta-tube; he didn't think he would have been able to handle the flight from Metropolis back to Happy Harbor at the altitudes and speeds that Sphere flew at. It was just to cold. The still air and relative warmth of the Mt. Justice hangar was a welcome change from the frigid and biting wind of the Metropolis cityscape and Conner was glad for that as well.

He climbed groaning off of Sphere, muttering a subdued "Thanks, girl" as he did so, and staggered out of the hangar towards the living area. In the kitchen he filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil for tea. He then opened the freezer and stared helplessly at the frozen meats inside, not liking the cold air wafting out from it one bit. He pulled out a bag of chicken quarters and tossed them onto the counter. He stared at them benightedly, wondering how in the world he was supposed to turn frozen bits of bird carcass into soup. Cadmus had never though to program him with knowledge of how to cook.

Maybe he could logic it out. 'Soup' was a liquid dish, typically made by boiling meat, fish, or vegetables in stock or water. So, then 'chicken soup' was boiled chicken. Conner took out a second pot and placed the frozen chicken quarters in it, he then filled the pot almost to the brim with water and set it on the stove, placed a lid over it and turned the flame on. He then stood to watch his pots boil. …It started to take forever and Conner had never been very well known for his patience, so he turned the heat up higher. The plain water for his tea began to simmer and he smiled in triumph. M'gann made this look so difficult. It wasn't that hard!

He lifted the pot off the stove and pored some of the water into a mug (and _most_ of the water over the counter), he then dropped in a tea bag, though about it for a moment then decided it would be better if he took the Lipton bag out of its paper wrapper. He burned his fingers trying to pull it out then deiced it wasn't worth the effort and gave up. He got a new mug down from the cupboard, placed a new bag in it (this time taking it out of the paper) and pored in more water. Conner carried his tea to the couch, turned on the TV and sat down to watch the static. He once again wrapped Superman's cape around himself and laid down, feeling extremely and inexplicably tired. He had been feeling winded ever since Parasite had touched him but Jimmy said it was only temporary; so he'd tried to ignore it. But now that he was home and safe and warming up from the cold, all the Boy of Not-Quite-Steel wanted to do was take a very long nap.

He couldn't nap of course; he still had soup cooking. But he could put his head down and rest for a bit. Conner pulled his boots off and set them neatly on the floor at the end of the couch. Then he stretched out beneath Superman's cape (his feet sticking out the end) and rested his head on the end of the couch. It would just be for a moment. As soon as he heard his chicken soup boiling he'd get up. He just needed to lay down for a bit.

The next thing Conner was aware of, he was being shaken awake by M'gann.

"…Conner? Conner are you okay?"

"Wha…? Wha's goin' on?" He lifted his head groggily. She knelt on the floor next to him, a worried expression on her face. There was a noxious stink in the air, a vague mixture of burned meat and over-heated metal and Conner was vaguely aware of a thin layer of smoke clouded the ceiling. "What happened?"

M'gann sighed with relief and leaned back on her heals. "You tell me." She said. "I get home from school and find you passed-out on the couch and stove nearly on fire!"

"Fire!" He sat up.

"Almost." The Martian girl amended quickly, not wanting to agitate him. "Almost on fire. There was something burning in a pot when I came in. I turned the heat off and am just waiting for it to cool down to throw it away. What were you trying to make? And where is Red Tornado?"

"I donno." Conner groaned. "Superman said to eat some soup, so I was making soup."

"Are you alright?" She asked again, her voice practically vibrating with concern. "I don't think I've ever seen you fall asleep on the couch before, and it's not like you to be so unaware of your surroundings that you wouldn't notice something burning. Did something happen to you?"

Conner was painfully reminded of his failed attempt to help Superman battle the villain Parasite. He drew his knees up to his chest and pulled the red cape with its yellow S-shield tighter around him (it was a remarkably comforting thing to have, the thin red cape). He avoided her eyes when he said, "I messed-up, M'gann."

She climbed up onto the couch and sat next to him, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders. "Is this Superman's cape?"

"Yes." The boy nodded miserably. "He gave it to me right before he sent me away."

"He sent you away!" The Martian girl echoed. "Wasn't he supposed to be making nice with you, though?"

That's what Kent had said he would do. Reconcile with Conner as Clark Kent (done and check), then reconcile as with him as Superman (not done, no check), then mentor him like everyone always expected him to in the first place (admittedly, Kent had not said anything about that last one). But still, he had told her that he wanted to reconcile with Conner and the Man of Steel (supposedly) never lies. Where does he get off sending Conner away? Did he even bother to tell him that Superman and Clark Kent were one and the same? Did she still have to keep his damn secret from her boyfriend even longer? Or should she just say to hell with him and go ahead and tell Conner? Her uncle had made Superman sound so righteous and great, but really, the Martian girl was not so impressed with him.

"Why don't you tell me what happened."

And so Conner told her about his day. How great it was at first, how Superman had invited him to Metropolis (the Man of Steel had _invited_ him, he had not asked, he repeated that fact several times), how he had single-handedly stopped a police chase and how Superman had offered him some advice on how to better handle car chases in the future. He told her about the police statement Superman made him give and about patrolling in the skies over the city and then he got to the point where they'd heard Jimmy's signal watch and his dispirited mood turned downright desolate.

He told her how he was supposed to be doing crowd control. It was his job to get everyone out of the building and to safety, but one damn newspaper photographer gave him the slip and he chased the man back to where Superman was squaring off with that day's 'big bad'. He gave a short narrative his one-hit encounter with the Parasite before the meta-man stole his powers and started going after Superman.

"It's supposed to only be temporary." He assured her (and perhaps was trying to assure himself as well). "I should be back to normal soon… eventually… sometime. But… Superman was so angry with me, he'll never train me now."

M'gann pursed her lips into a thin line, not knowing what the right thing to say was. "Did he tell you he wouldn't mentor you?"

"Well, no. But the message was clear enough." Said the socially inept genomorph.

The Martian girl sighed. She had no idea what to say to Conner. She didn't know if she should comfort him and tell him that he was better-off without the Man of Steel and than it was Superman's loss, or reassure him that his genetic-parent wouldn't hold it against him and he still might agree to be his mentor. She didn't have a very good gauge of the man's character and so couldn't predict his moves or motives. She didn't want to offer Conner a false hope, but she also didn't want to dissuade him from his goal of becoming Superman's protégé if it were possible.

Well, since she didn't know what to do to improve her boyfriend's emotional state, she decided she might as well do something to improve his physical state. The girl stood.

"You just lay here and relax." She told him. "I'll get you a pillow and a real blanket and make you some fresh tea. I've already turned up the ventilation, so the smoke should clear in a little while. I'll make you some soup for dinner. You don't mind instant, do you?"

"Instant?" Instant soup? He didn't know they had that. He'd only ever seen M'gann cook things the long way with real ingredients and stuff. Since when did they stock instant meals that you could just pop in the microwave and eat? He would have liked to know that they had instant soup –he paused to check the time- four hours ago. Four hours ago! He'd been asleep for four hours, that was almost as much sleep as he got in a normal night. He'd slept for four hours and was still feeling tired.

…

M'gann had brought the class work he'd missed as well as his homework for the day home with her and he pored over it while she busied herself in the kitchen. But Conner found it difficult to focus with how tired he was feeling and the TV static (M'gann had left it on for him) started to grate on his nerves. He decided to put it off until he was feeling more himself. Normal things like this weren't usually difficult for him. When M'gann put a bowl of soup down in front of him, the kryptonian genomorph welcomed the distraction. And when he was done eating, he went strait to bed, clutching Superman's cape like a security blanket.

Conner woke again some time in the middle of the night, feeling more like himself again. He felt energized, awake and strong enough to take on the world. He looked at his room's clock and saw that it had been roughly twelve hours since his confrontation with Parasite. So, the effect was temporary after all and it lasted for only about a day. Good to now. He climbed out of bed, rested, relaxed and in much better spirits than he had been earlier that evening.

He folded Superman's cape into a neat square, the yellow S-shield facing up, and placed it on his desk. He was sourly tempted to keep it as the first, last and only memento from his genetic-parent, but he decided it would be better to return it to the man –to show that there were no hard feelings between them (at least on Conner's end). He knew he had messed up and lost the riht to be mentored by the Man of Steel and that he had done it to himself. He would apologize to Superman and return his cape to him, then he would leave the man alone for the rest of his life.

Once the cape had been set aside, the Boy of Once-Again-Steel set to making his bed as he always did, taking care to fold the corners of the sheets under the mattress at acute angles, stepping around Wolf as he did so. The Boy of Steel tried not to wake the domesticated predator, but when he inevitably did he offered the creature some affectionate pets, scratching behind the cobra-venom enhanced Wolf's ears causing his hind paw to spasm in pleasure.

His bed made and Wolf placated, Conner stripped off his clothes and hopped in the shower. It was a short affair, taking only ten minuets, then he was clean and out and drying off. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth then pulled on a fresh set of cloths, the only alteration being a shirt with longer sleeves.

He dug a white thermal shirt with a high collar with the S-shield on it in gray out of his closet. It was the only long-sleeved shirt he owned, it was also the one he's worn in Arctic during the botched training simulation Batman and Martian Manhunter had put them all through. He had refrained from wearing it since then, citing the fact that he wasn't really effected by cold as the reason when asked, but really because he didn't want to stir-up any unpleasant memories for his teammates (especially M'gann whom viewed the whole debacle as her fault). But after getting his powers stolen and learning first hand just how unbelievably unpleasant being cold actually was, he decided that warm clothing wasn't such a bad idea, especially when there were power-stealing meta-humans running around out there.

He exited his room and was pleased to find that his super-human hearing had returned. He heard M'gann's even rhythmic breathing coming from her room as clearly as if she were lying next to him. He paused at her door and considered waking her to apologize for the fright he'd given her earlier. Then the thought a better thank you would be _not_ waking her in the middle of the night on top of everything else he'd already done. People didn't generally care for being roused from their sleep for no good reason. He then wondered what he would do with his time now that he was awake.

It was still to early to get his morning papers; the news stand wouldn't be opening for a few more hours yet. Then he entered the common area. Ah, right. _That_ was what he could do with his time.

Conner set to work cleaning the mess he'd created in the kitchen with his botched attempt at cooking. From what he could tell of the disaster that was the kitchen stove, his 'soup' had boiled over; the sides of the pot, lip of the lid, and surface of the stove was covered in a hardened spatter that was yellowish in color and smelled vaguely of burned chicken. He assumed that after all the liquid had evaporated the meat had continued to burn. When he lifted the lid, Conner found that the chicken was dry and stuck to the bottom of the pot and looked overall very unappetizing. M'gann's instant soup had been much better.

With a heavy sigh, the genomorph scrapped (or more accurately chiseled) the ruined meat into the trash and set the dirty pot in the sink to soak. He then fished into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out every kitchen cleaner they had. He scrubbed the stove, smiling rather than groaning when he dented it with his strength, it was nice to be back to normal. Conner wiped down the counters and swept and mopped the floor. When he was done the kitchen smelled of Lysol and lemons and he breathed it in with deep satisfaction. He loved it when things looked clean and orderly. Cadmus might have been a shady iniquitous place, but if it was anything it was ordered and order was a good thing.

The kitchen clean, the kryptonian genomorph sat down to complete the schoolwork that had seemed so difficult earlier. Now that he was fully rested and back to normal, Conner found it just as easy as it always had been.

Kitchen clean and homework done, the Boy of Steel left to get his morning paper. Everything was back to normal.

…

Upon returning to the hangar, _Daily Planet_ and _Happy Harbor Crier_ in hand Conner decided that he didn't much feel like going to school. M'gann had told them yesterday that he was out sick, why not go ahead and say he was still sick and take another day off? It wasn't exactly like he needed school, he already knew everything they were trying to teach him (and then some). Besides, he needed to return Superman's cape to him.

Conner dropped his newspapers on the island separating the living room from the kitchen and muttered "Good morning" to M'gann as he passed her. He grabbed the red cape with its yellow S-shield from off his desk. He gave the Martian girl a kiss on the cheek as he was leaving and asked her to cover for him at school again. Then he and Sphere were riding the zetta-tube back to Metropolis.

Superman had been the one to come to him yesterday and Conner quickly realized that he had no idea how to actually find his genetic-parent. But yesterday he had met someone who knew how to get in touch with the Man of Steel. Conner headed for the Daily Planet building in search of the photographer Jimmy.

Jimmy Olsen meanwhile was showing a somewhat tired looking Clark Kent his photos of all the excitement he'd missed while home sick.

"… and here's one of the Superboy's flying motorcycle. He's got a flying motorcycle! I'm wicked jealous. Can you imagine the shots I could get with a flying motorcycle? Or the stories that you and Ms. Lane could get? Wicked cool beans!"

"That's great, Jimmy." Clark muttered absentmindedly. The reporter-superhero wondered if perhaps he'd been a little to hard on the boy yesterday. "The important thing is that Rudy's back in his cell at Stryker's Island."

"Right, right." The photographer muttered. "And the other important thing is that since I was the only Planet employee there to witness it, Perry said I get to write the article on it! That's a nice step-up from copy-boy, huh. A couple more incidents like this and I'll be a real reporter in no time!"

"Good for you." Clark did not sound as thrilled as his words implied, but he was supposed to be getting over a cold, Jimmy could forgive him.

"Anyway, I was kinda wondering if you wouldn't mind helping with it, a bit? For a shared by-line of course." Jimmy looked pleadingly at Clark. "I'd ask Ms. Lane, but she's more likely to find a way to squeeze me out of the by-line before sharing."

"Mm-hm." Then Clark lifted his head as if listening to something only he could hear. He turned to face the window just in time to see a three-wheeled flying alien motorcycle pull up alongside the building. He instantly recognized its rider as Superboy (though he had changed his shirt) and wondered what the clone could want here at the Planet now that his interview had been published and he'd gotten Clark's (or rather Superman's) attention.

The boy tapped lightly on the window.

"Oh, hey, its Superboy!" Jimmy smiled and waved.

Superboy breathed on the window and wrote the word 'Roof?' in the ensuing fog. Not knowing which of them the boy meant, both men found themselves climbing the service stair to the roof access door.

The boy was already waiting for them when they got there. "Good morning, Mr. Kent." He hadn't really come looking for Kent today, but the man had done him a huge favor in printing his interview so he was obligated to be polite. Besides, Robin had suggested that he keep up a friendship with the reporter, to keep him as a sort of 'press agent' like how Superman had Lois Lane.

"Hello… Superboy." Kent seemed awkward this morning. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Hey, Superboy." Jimmy cut off any reply.

"Mr… uh, Jimmy. Sorry, I didn't catch your surname yesterday. I don't know the appropriate form of address." Superboy kicked at the thin layer of snow that had collected on the roof over night. "I, uh, I was wondering if I could borrow your watch."

"My watch?" The redhead pulled back the cuff of his jacket sleeve to look at the watch face.

"What for?" Kent asked.

"I, uh… I need to return this to Superman." The boy reached into the Super-cycle and withdrew a neatly folded red cape. Superboy avoided eye contact and studied the marks he's made in the snow when he continued. "He gave it to me yesterday after I messed everything up. Anyway, I wanna make sure he gets it back. He was so angry at me yesterday… I'm sure he probably hates me by now and won't wanna see me, but I still feel like I should return his property to him."

"Nah, Superman doesn't hate anyone." Jimmy brushed off the boy's fears. "Except maybe Luthor. But he doesn't count." He pressed a button on the side of his watch and Superboy's (and Clark Kent's) ears were filled with its high-frequency sonic trill. "Shouldn't take him long to get here."

"Well, I've got work to do." Kent started to leave.

"Wait, Mr. Kent." Superboy stopped him. "I, uh, I also wanted to thank you. For your article. It got Superman to notice me, I might have messed it up afterwards, but I got what I wanted so… thank you."

"I don't think you messed it up, Superboy." Kent crossed the roof and placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Actually, he did think the boy had messed up in the confrontation with Parasite, but he hadn't discouraged Clark from mentoring him. After speaking with his mother, the Superman was quite sure that if he didn't mentor the boy he would never be able to set foot on the Kent farm ever again. "I think you're just inexperienced. Like Jimmy said, Superman doesn't hate you."

The boy hugged the red cape with its yellow S-shield tight to his chest like one might see a small child hugging a teddy bear. "You think so…?"

Kent nodded and, noticing the way the boy clung to the thin red fabric for comfort and he added, "And you shouldn't worry about returning the cape to him, either. Superman probably gave it to you as a kindness, you should take it as such."

Superboy thought about that for a moment. 'Kindness' was the act of being friendly or considerate. But he wasn't quite sure what '_a_ kindness' was. Perhaps the reporter meant to say 'an _act_ of kindness'. That would make more sense according to the rules of speech Cadmus had programmed in him. Or maybe it was a dialect thing, he'd already surmised that Kent hailed from the mid-west; maybe it was a country thing.

"Anyway, I gotta go." Kent once again tried retreating from the roof.

"One more thing, Mr. Kent." Superboy once again stopped him. "Robin says I should try and have a normal-person friend. I, uh, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind talking with me again some time?"

Clark paused. "Robin told you this."

The boy nodded.

That little brat! Robin knew who he was and he had sent Superboy to him anyway. After he took care of this, he was going to have a long conversation with the boy's mentor.

"Huh, I wonder what's taking Superman so long…?" Jimmy wondered aloud while scanning the city's skyline.

"Sure, Superboy, we can talk later. There's actually something I need to talk to you about." Clark nodded quickly. "But I really gotta go."

Clark Kent disappeared back into the Daily Planet and a few seconds later Superman appeared hovering above the roof.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

…


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Twelve:

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Superman landed on the roof in front of Superboy and Jimmy.

"No problem." The photographer smiled. "I imagine you were busy off saving half of outer Mongolia or something."

The Man of Steel smiled at what he assumed was a joke to lighten the mood. Superboy had been sullen and dejected while speaking with him as Clark Kent, but the moment he arrived as Superman the teen shifted to downright _desolate_ and Clark had to once again raise an eyebrow at the way the boy clutched the cape from yesterday to his chest as if it were a talisman for protection or a favored stuffed animal that a child might cling to for comfort and reassurance. Clark had noticed certain peculiarities about the boy already, his odd compulsions and such, he had assumed they were just odd personality quirks, after all, he might be his clone, but they were still two completely different people. But now the Man of Steel was beginning to wonder if his 'education' at Cadmus had left him mentally imbalanced in some way.

"You wanted to see me?" He decided to ignore the fact that the boy was ditching school for now. He had taken him out of school the previous day; to scold the boy now would be comparable to the kettle calling the pot.

The boy squeezed the cape so much tighter to his chest that it became just a thin sliver of red material barely visible through his interlocked forearms. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not the person you want to see right now." He avoided eye contact, as he always seemed to do when speaking with his genetic-parent. "But I needed to return this to you."

With a great level of reluctance, the boy extended the now thoroughly wrinkled cape to the Man of Steel.

Clark put his hand over the boy's and gently pushed the offered costume item back. "Keep it. It was a kindness."

The boy cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. "That's the same thing Kent said to me. Almost verbatim."

Crap baskets!

Well, he did need to tell the boy who he was sooner or later. It wouldn't be fair for him to invite the boy home for the holidays as Superman and then bring him to the Kent Farm and have Ma and Pa come out calling him 'Clark'. That was not the way for his… side-kick-to-be? Understudy? (_Not_ son!) Whatever he was, that would not be the way for the boy to learn his secret identity. He had to tell him himself and tell him soon. But he couldn't do it with Jimmy standing right next to the boy.

"Jimmy, I need the roof."

"The whole roof?" Superboy asked in confusion.

The photographer patted him on the shoulder. "It means he wants to talk to you alone."

He retreated back into the building. Superboy watched him leave then turned back to face his genetic-parent uneasy and unsure. "Should… should I ask Sphere to leave too?"

"Sphere?" Clark blink in confusion. Who was Sphere? He hadn't been aware of anyone else on the roof with them. He switched to his inferred vision and scanned the roof for any invisible heat signatures; there was no one there besides himself, Superboy and Superboy's flying motorcycle. "Who is…"

"My friend." He nodded to the alien machine.

Oh great. Was the boy so starved for attention and companionship that he had started envisioning inanimate objects as friends? Or could it be that some fluke in his programming had made it difficult for him to distinguish people from machines? Clark suppressed a groan. When he called Bruce to discuss the subject of Dick's meddling he was also going to make a point of asking about the boy's peculiarities and eccentricities.

"I think your, uh, friend can stay."

The boy nodded with relief.

"Listen, Superboy…" Clark began awkwardly. He wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject of his secret identity with the boy and wasn't yet sure if he was ready. He had been forced to confront and come to terms with the fact that the boy did, in fact, need him but he still didn't think he was comfortable enough with the boy to expose his civilian life and the people in it to the still unfamiliar clone. But this decision no long depended solely on him anymore. His mother had demanded he bring the boy to the farm and so he had to tell the boy who he was. "If you're going to be my side-kick you should know-"

"You mean… I can be your side-kick!" The boy's suddenly ecstatic face threw Clark mentally off balance. He had been looking so bleak just a moment ago and now he looked like Christmas had come early. "I had though… after yesterday… But you'll mentor me after all! Thank you! Oh, thank you! And I don't even care if you call me a 'side-kick'!"

"Right… Anyway, if we're going to be working together, there are some things you should know." Clark continued uncomfortably, his moods were capricious and the Man of Steel was finding it hard to find solid footing when speaking with the boy. "First, when I say 'don't do something', please don't go and do it five seconds later." He ignored the boy's muttering that it had actually been more than five seconds. "Secondly, don't go rushing into a fight without knowing what you're dealing with. Actually, make that the third thing. Secondly, try to avoid violence whenever possible, peaceful solutions are always the best solutions. Always try using your words to resolve an issue first." The little-Lois in his head told him that he was starting to sound like a Saturday morning cartoon, but he ignored her. "Thirdly, when you have to fight, don't go rushing in, fists first, when you have no idea what you're up against."

"Yes, sir." The boy muttered, shamefaced at the reminder of yesterday's mistake that had caused so much harm so early in the fight, but he still looked nowhere near as desolate as he had been a moment ago.

Clark nodded at the boy's acknowledgment and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "And, finally, I suppose I should tell you my name."

"Oh, I know you're name." The boy looked up, beaming proudly. "They taught it to me at Cadmus. Are you giving me permission to address you by name?"

Clark experienced a sudden stab of panic. The boy already knew who he was! He had known all along! More importantly, he had learned Clark's identity from Cadmus! Whatever dark nefarious organization that had created Superboy already knew who he was! This was bad. This was _very_ bad! He needed to call Bruce. He needed to call Bruce _now_!

"So, I can call you 'Kal-El'!" The boy was saying.

"What?" Clark blinked.

The boy paused, suddenly the vulnerable and unsure youth Clark was more used to seeing. "By wanting to tell me your name you're saying I can call you Kal-El, right?"

Right… He had told Lois that his kryptonian name was Kal-El in one of his first interviews. Everyone knew _that_ name. Well… everyone who read the newspaper knew that name and not many really read the papers much in this digital age. But his birth name still was no big secret. Clark let out a sigh of relief, the panic draining out of him.

"Sure." He said. "But what I meant was-"

"Superman!" Lois emerged from the roof access door. "Jimmy said you were up here with Superboy. I've decided that if you won't talk to me I'll just cross-examine the source."

Darn it! Its like the universe was trying to prevent him from having this conversation with the boy. "Now's not really a good time, Lois."

"There's rarely ever a 'good time' when you're chasing a story, Superman." The raven-haired reporter flashed him one of her most dazzling smiles.

"I thought you said anything I had to say about Superboy would be off the record." Superman's crystal blue eyes narrowed at her. He really liked Lois (most of the time) but every now and again when she was on the trail of a big scoop, or what she perceived to be a big scoop, she would louse a touch of her empathy (an common sense).

Superboy, for his part, had stopped listening at the word 'cross-examine', mainly just the 'examine' part. "I'm a free person now." He snarled and took a step back from the reporter as if retreating from a possible threat. "You're not allowed to examine me if I don't want you to."

Clark's face fell into the palm of his hand.

"Huh?" Lois did a double take at the combined oddness and severity of his reaction. "Whoa, kid, I think you got the wrong idea. I just want to ask you a few questions."

Superman placed himself between the raven-haired reporter and his clone. "Look, Lois, I'll answer some of your questions later, but right now Superboy and I really need to talk."

Lane glanced from Superman to the now hostile looking teen that stood glaring defensively at her from behind the Man of Steel. He was hugging a folded but very wrinkled red cape to his chest in a way that reminded her somewhat of how children might sometime clutch stuffed plushie toys when agitated. She was suddenly reminded that Clark's article had mentioned that while he looked to be in his mid-teens, the boy was actually only less than a year old. Hm, perhaps she had come on just a bit to strongly. Time to change her tactics.

"Superboy," she began again in a much friendlier tone, leaning to the side slightly to talk around Superman. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I'm just a little jealous, you talked to Clark, won't you talk to me too? Superman talks to me all the time."

The boy did not say anything in response; he merely glared at her from behind his genetic-parent.

"Lois, I don't think the boy's quite ready for your particular brand of interview just yet." The Man of Steel attempted to mediate. The last thing he wanted was his possible side-kick to file Lois under the 'do not trust' category in his mental notes.

Lane gave a huff and crossed her arms over her chest, dropping one hip in her trademark 'Lois Pose'. It had a different effect in the sensible pants-suit she had worn today, but still managed to instill a small amount of unease in the kryptonian hero. That pose almost always meant that the raven-haired reporter was annoyed and when Lois got annoyed she tended to get aggressive (well… more aggressive than usual). "You seem to be implying that my methods are somehow different from Kent's."

Well, they were. But that was only because she couldn't fly or shoot lasers out of her eyes. It was amazing the things people would tell the Superman that they would never dream of saying to any version of another 'normal' human being. But there had also been an implied level of negativity in his statement that, while Lois had not commented on it directly, was the real thing she wanted explained. When had their non-verbal communication become so keen?

"Mr. Kent doesn't make demands." Superboy growled. He had reserved judgment on Ms. Lane when he'd met her almost two weeks ago because it had been a short meeting and she was injured at the time. He hadn't really interacted with her since then, but now he was beginning to lean towards the decision that she and he would not get along. (A shame considering she was his genetic-parent's 'romantic interest'.) "I don't take orders from anyone but Batman, my team-leader and him." He nodded to Superman.

Clark didn't know if he should feel flattered to be on such an exclusive list, concerned about the boy's reasons for having such a list, or wonder what happens to the people who aren't on his list that presumed to give him 'orders'. One more thing he would make sure to ask Bruce about later, it was starting to look like that was going to be one long call.

"So, you're on a team?" Lois smile was sweet, but Clark saw the keen glint in her eyes that always signified when she'd caught the scent of a story. Crap baskets! The Young Justice team was supposed to be _secret_ -covert ops. He could not allow Lois to expose the Team to the world. As far as the rest of the world was concerned all the members of the YJ Team worked under their own mentors and did not participate in any version of Justice League business. "So, what is this team of yours? Who else is on it? What do you do?"

All right, that was enough. He liked Lois and he was usually willing to answer her questions about himself, but if Superboy let slip any confidential Young Justice or Justice League information while he was standing right next to the boy… Bruce would _kill_ him!

"Superboy," he said. "Please get on your flying motorcycle."

"Uh, sure." The boy climbed onto the Super-cycle and ascended a few feet off the roof. "Should I wait for you somewhere?"

"I'll catch up."

The boy left. Superman turned to Lane. "I'm almost always willing to talk to you, Lois." He said. "But Superboy is still a minor, I would prefer if he didn't give any more interviews without another Leaguer present."

She tapped her foot in irritation at being thwarted. "Can I assume that'll go for Clark as well?"

"As far as interviews go, yes." Superman nodded. "But if Superboy wants to pursue a friendship with him and Kent agrees not to publicize anything they discuss, I won't interfere with them."

The boy seemed far more comfortable around him as Clark than around him as Superman. If that pattern continued even after he told the boy who he was then he didn't want to cut off that avenue of communication with the boy.

The foot tapping continued, now accompanied by a glare. She was _so_ not happy with him, but at the same time he knew that there wasn't anything she could say to challenge him. Superboy was a minor under the guardianship of the Justice League of America. As such, he couldn't be interviewed without the presents and permission of a legal guardian. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Alright, Superman, I'll leave the kid alone. But I still want an explanation."

Clark sighed. Lois was relentless, it was actually one of the qualities that he found so endearing about her, but it was also one of the qualities that he found so maddeningly frustrating about her. She would never stop hounding him until she got the answers she wanted. He would be much better off just telling her what he could tell her without giving away any classified JLA information. But he couldn't leave Superboy unsupervised in his city while he sat here chatting with Lois. He was fast, but even he couldn't be in two places at once. Clark switched on his JLA comm. "Superboy?"

"This is Superboy, go ahead." His own voice, two decades younger answered back.

"I might be a while here." He told the boy. "Keep your channel open for me, please."

"Understood." The boy did not sound happy. He was inexperienced but not stupid. He knew that if he kept his channel open, Clark would be able to hear everything that was going on around him, the comm's mic would pick-up and transmit whatever it heard to the Superman. It seemed like Superboy appreciated 'big brother' checking in on him just about as much as anyone else ever did. (How did he cope with Batman then?)

"Alright, Lois." Superman said as Superboy went silent and all he heard was the wind roaring as the young clone rode through the air on his flying motorcycle. "I'm all yours."

"Great." She smiled a predatory smile that always managed to both excite and terrify him all at once.

"First," Clark help up a hand, halting her questions before she had the chance to even ask any. "I need you to promise me that anything I tell you will stay off the record for now. You promised me once that you'd never publish anything that could harm me, I'd like you to extend that promise to Superboy as well. There are certain details about his creation that, while I'm still a little fuzzy on, aren't likely to endear him to the public as easily as my origin story endeared me."

She pursed her lips with displeasure. He met her eyes and let the slightest bit of a plea into his gaze.

Lois gave-up with a sigh. "You know, your greatest super-power is that you can get me to do anything you want with just a look."

He gave a self-conscious smile. "Mind control is not a kryptonian ability."

She crossed what little distance there still was between them, her body pressed almost flush against his and stood up on the tips of her toes to get closer to his eye-level, her lips almost brushing his chin when she said, "I didn't say 'mind control'."

Clark took a step back and hoped to great Rao that his blush wasn't as obvious as he feared it might be (also, he rather regretted the tights in that moment as well). "L-Lois…!"

The raven-haired reported smiled with satisfaction at being able to discompose the Man of Steel so easily and so thoroughly. Perhaps that was _her_ 'super-power' –to turn one of the most powerful beings on Earth into a blushing, stuttering, giddy little schoolboy. "Alright, Superman," she suddenly was all business again. "Off the record, no notes, no tapes, just you and me and the open roof."

It took him only a moment to compose himself as well. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Just the usual." She assured him with a smile. "_Everything_."

'Everything' turned out to be 'only the things that Clark actually knew and was allowed to comment on' which wasn't very much. Basically, Superman just repeated everything Clark Kent had already published. This did little more than frustrate Lois. She could be so cute when she was flustered, if only the Man of Steel could be sure she wouldn't bite his head off, he'd be inclined to aggravate her more often if for no other reason than just the fun of it (yes, sometimes he could be rotten like that).

"Grr. What about this 'team' Superboy mentioned? What can you tell me about that?"

Here the Superman offered her a lopsided grin that was only apologetic on the surface but all playful underneath. "Sorry, Lois, but you're gonna have to drive to Gotham and ask Batman about that."

"_Grr_! Ya know what, Superman, sometimes…"

"Yes?" He shifted his smile from lopsided to merely pleasant and allowed just a little bit of Clark Kent's farm-boy naïveté to blink into his eyes.

Her hostility deflated. "Ugh. That's the look..."

…

(A/N: Arg! Short chapter is short. I've reached a bit of a writer's block where this fic is concerned, I kinda struggled to crank out what little of this chapter that I actually have and I'm sorry about that. I'm gonna put this fic on hiatus for now until I can get over this block to continue it. Until then, please enjoy my one-shots and forum challenges.

Thank you for reading thus far and I do apologize.

-Renkon )


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: Hello, everybody. You probably all want to kill me for letting this vic just sit here for a year without an update. I'm sorry. I have no excuse. Especially when you hear that I misplaced my notes and outlines for this fic and will have to rely solely on what I remember I was planning to do in order to complete it. Because of that, there will be a bit of a disconnect between the previous chapter and this one. The last chapter was posted on January 8th, 2012; today is January 7th, 2013 -almost one year to the day. [I totally did not plan that, I swear!] But because I've spent so much time away from this fic, these last few chapters might feel a bit different than the rest of the story. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. But I do hope you still enjoy.

-Renkon)

Kent

Chapter Thirteen:

He didn't get a chance to tell the boy as Superman. But the kid still wanted to meet with him as Clark Kent, to have a 'normal person' friend. Yeah. Well. We'll see how well that goes. It was with these thoughts in mind that Clark entered Bibbo's Diner.

Superboy -Conner- was sitting at the same booth they'd shared last time. The boy's back was to him when Clark entered. But he turned at the sound of the door chime. Seeing Clark, the boy smiled and waved the mild mannered reporter over with a smile. Clark returned the smile only half-heartedly and crossed the diner to take up the seat opposite the Superboy.

"I should tell you," Clark began, "Superman doesn't want you talking to anymore reporters without a member of the League present."

"Why?" Conner blinked at him skeptically. "Becasue the article you wrote made him look bad? He can't do that! Isn't that censorship? That's illegal!"

"That's not it at all." Clark shook his head. Great. Now he was just making things harder for himself. Yeah, this was a good plan. Make the boy even _more_ angry with Superman _then_ reveal your secret identity. I'm sure that would work out real well. "You're still a minor. That means that -legally- reporters can't interview you without the permission of a parent or guardian. So, no more interviews without another Leaguer. Another _adult_ Leaguer."

"Oh." The boy paused. "But, we can still be friends, right?"

"Yes, Superboy, we can still be friends." Clark assured him. And he hopped to gosh that would stay true after he finally came clean with the boy.

But, once again, they were interrupted and Clark still didn't get to his chance tell Conner the truth about his identity. Things were beyond ridiculous by this loin and Clark's patience and resolve were both running thin.

And it was all _Dick's fault_, really. If the little Brat Wonder hadn't put Conner up to this in the first place… sending him to Clark Kent's desk at the Planet asking for an interview, never even hinting to the boy who he really was… All this anxiety was because of Dick. The little troll! Did Bruce know about this!?

If the Caped Crusader didn't, then he was going to find out soon enough.

…

"This is Batman. Go ahead."

"Do you know what you're side-kick has done!?"

Ah. Clark. Yes, the Dark Knight knew exactly what this call was regarding. Still, that didn't stop him from asking, "Could you be more specific?"

"Superboy!" Snapped the Man of Steel over the comm channel.

"I should have known! At first I thought it twas you, remember? I should have figured that itv it wasn't you, the only other person it could have been was Dick. Superboy certainly wouldn't have thought about it on his own! The idea had to come fro someone."

"I see." It was amazing how placid and calm Bruce sounded, considering he was fighting to hold back a snort of derision at the Superman's expense. "And what do you want me to do about this?"

"You're his guardian. Punish him!" Said the Man of Steel, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"For what?"

Clark sputtered impotently into the comm.

"What exactly has he done that requires a punishment?"

Again, Clark sputtered helplessly. "For meddling!" He said finally. "for… for giving away my identity!"

"Oh?" Bruce asked, pausing for dramatic effect. "Has he? I was under the impression that the Superboy still didn't know who you were. Am I wrong?"

"Well, no…" And the reluctance in his voice when Clark admitted that was almost palpable. "But he sent the buy after me!"

"So, let me get this strait. You're mad because Dick started something in motion that you were supposed to have done _on your own_ three month ago. Is that what you're saying?"

"No! No, I… I…" He trailed off.

"You got the kick in the pants pants you needed and are pissy about it. I understand."

On the other end of the line Clark heaves a groan. The Dark Knight readied himself for a new argument from the Man of Steel. Instead, he sighed with resignation.

"Was there anything else?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah…" He admitted. Clark did, after all, he did have a whole list of things he wanted to discuss about the Superboy. "He's weird. Superboy, I mean. I don't really know what to make of him."

"Explain."

"Its just small random things." Clark began. "Like how he has to cut his food into cubes before he eats it. And just earlier today, Lois was trying to interview him and he completely freaked out. Said he didn't take orders from anyone but you, Aqualad and me."

"Oh, well, that's a simple one." Bruce tried not to scoff. The answer was obvious to him, what wasn't it obvious to Clark? "Cadmus treated him basically like a slave. Now he's free. He gets to pick and choose who he listens to and who he doesn't. Of course he's not gonna take kindly to anyone presuming to command him or make demands on him. And you and I both know that Lois can be a very demanding woman."

"But what happens to the people who try to order him around that aren't on his little list." Asked Clark, concerned.

"I imagine they get snapped at by an irate and moody teenager."

"So… should I be flattered to be on his list?"

Bruce paused for a mount before saying, "Let me put it like this. I'm on that list because I deploy the Team out on missions. If he doesn't listen to me, then he doesn't stay on the Team. Aqualad is on that list because he's Team Leader. If he doesn't listen to Aqualad during missions, the whole Team suffers. But you have nothing to do with the Team. You don't deploy them. You don't train them. You are the only person on that list that he's not obligated to listen to. So, what does that tell you?"

"That he chose me." Clark groaned. "And I should feel honored."

"Well, jee, you don't have to make it sound like such a burden."

"Well, ya know, its kinda hard not to, when everything having to do with the kid makes me out to be the bad guy."

"Then stop _acting_ like the bad guy." Bruce growled. If there was one thing that irritated him about the Superman, it was how whiny he got sometimes when things didn't go his way. Sometimes the Dark Knight wondered if his powers made the Man of Steel spoiled and entitled.

"But its so hard when I still don't even know how to talk to him!"

"What do you mean? I thought he and Clark Kent were getting on rather well. That they were friends by this point."

"I've written one article on him." Clark reminded the Caped Crusader. "But that's not it. His moods are so capricious. In the course of one conversation he goes from sullen and dejected, to obnoxiously happy, to scared or angry, to sullen again. Its like talking to a Spanish soap opera. He act like… he acts like…"

"He acts like a real child." Bruce supplied. "Clark, tell me, how old is the Superboy?"

"Eight months." Admitted the Superman, reluctantly.

"Have you ever spent much time with a child who's not even a year old?"

"N-no…?"

"Neither have I." Bruce admitted. The youngest child he'd ever spent extended time with was Dick -age nine to now. "But I have read about them. Developmental psychology. One of the many subjects I study in my spare time. Children that young are easily excited or upset. They need comfort."

Clark thought about the way Conner clutched the folded cape to his chest. Like a teddy bear or a security blanket. "I'm a super-ass."

…

The last week before Thanksgiving found M'gann and Conner spending most of their evenings after school at the supermarket, making all the purchases the martian girl would need to cook a perfect Thanksgiving feast.

"Kaldur's not doing anything special since they don't celebrate it in Atlantis, so I invited him. Artemis, wally and Robin are all having dinner with their families. So it's just going to be you, me, Kaldur and Wolf." She said as she selected an eight pound turkey.

"Don't forget Red Tornado and Sphere." Conner was quick to remind her, taking the heavy turkey in one hand.

"Yes, but they're not actually going to be _eating_." Clarified M'gann. "Right now we're shopping to feed people."

"Oh. Yeah." He nodded his understanding. Then paused for a moment. Thought. Opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again without saying a thing.

"Yes?" Asked the martian girl, sensing he wanted to ask something.

"Its nothing." Conner assured her, following her down the canned foods isle and holding the basket who she piled it full of cranberry sauce, green beans and mushroom soup. "Batman would never allow it."

"What wouldn't Batman allow at _our_ Thanksgiving dinner?"

"A civillian." Answered the Superboy. "I was kinda thinking of inviting Clark Kent to dinner."

M'gann froze. Superman still hadn't told him. Still! This was just ridiculous! It might not be M'gann's secret to tell, but this had gone on long enough! If Mr. Kent wasn't going to nut-up and tell Conner himself then the decision to do so was should be taken out of his hands. She would have to do it herself! "_Clark Kent is Superman_."

…


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of CD Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter 14:

Conner stormed through the Daily Planet building in search of 'Clark Kent'. He was an idiot. How could he have been such an idiot? A blind idiot! He should have seen it. No. He did see it. The very first time the super-clone laid eyes on the supposed 'mild mannered reporter' he thought he looked like Superman. It was only later that he convinced himself they were not, in fact, the same person. But they were. They are. Clark Kent is Superman. M'gann read his mind a few weeks back, she would know.

Of course, that also meant that she had been keeping that little nugget of information from him for the past couple of weeks. They would have to have a conversation about that later. But right now, his main focus was that two-faced, back-stabbing, self-righteous, negligent, charlatan he was unfortunate enough to have as a genetic-parent. Clark Kent. The Superman.

Jimmy was just stepping out of Perry's office, a stack of reject photos in his hands when the Superboy stomped by. "Oh, hey! You're back! You come here almost as often as Superman!"

That got the demi-kryptonian's attention. He rounded on the intrepid photographer with a snarl. "Where is he?"

"Who?" Jimmy blinked.

"Clark Kent!" The super-clone all but spat the name. He was trying very hard to keep control. It wasn't Jimmy's fault that he worked with a sneaking, lying, deceiving, sanctimonious, bastard. Jimmy probably didn't even know. After all, if Clark could fool his own clone, what chance did the people of the Daily Planet have at seeing through his disguise?

"Clark?" Jimmy tapped his chin with the corner of a photo in thought. "Hm... last I saw him, he was on his way to the bathroom. Poor guy, he's probably accidentally locked himself in there again. He does that a lot. There was this one time, Superman was fighting a giant monkey and Clark missed the whole thing because he had gotten the lock on his stall jammed and he didn't want to crawl on the bathroom floor to squeeze under the door. Poor guy. He gets sick a lot too. He has, like, no immune system. There was this other time that, right when Parasite first appeared actually, when he got the flu for, like, a month. Lois and I were wondering if he was gonna die. Hard to believe he's one of the best investigative reporters we've got. As delicate as he actually is."

Sure, Jimmy. Well, it was obvious that Mr. Olsen had no idea.

So, if 'Clark Kent' had locked himself in the bathroom, that meant that 'Superman' was out and about. Fine then. If he couldn't confront the civilian identity, he'd just have to stick it to the super-hero persona.

"Thanks, Jimmy." The Superboy went stalking to the roof.

...

Superman landed on the roof of the Daily Planet building after a satisfactory and uneventful patrol. He slunk under the shadow of the low-hanging side of the globe's ring to where he'd hidden his civilian clothes and slipped them back on over his Superman uniform.

His collar buttoned all the way up, tie nice and tight, waistband of the pants a little bit higher than what was fashionable, shoes nice and shiny, he mentally began to shed the persona of 'Superman: Man of Steel and World's Biggest Boy Scout', and instead don that of 'Clark Kent: Meek and Mild Mannered Reporter from a Small Country Town'. It was right then, in the middle of this mental shift, that the roof access door opened, startling both the Man of Steel and the one who stepped out.

"Superboy?" Asked Clarkman. I mean, Superkent. I mean -crap baskets!

"You!" That single word wasn't so much spoken as it was spat. The boy crossed the space between them in three quick strides and grabbed a fist full of the older man's shirt. "I've come to terms with your neglect and inconsistency. But this... this was just mean!"

"What are you talking about?" And Clark was honestly and truly confused. The last time they parted as Superboy and Clark Kent, he was fine. They were both fine with each other. What brought this on? And how exactly had Clark Kent been 'neglecting' the Superboy? Its not like the perfectly ordinary reporter was in any way responsible for the demi-kryptonian.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Snarled the Superboy. "I'm through with your shit! You got that! You can push me off onto Batman. You can chase me out of your city. You can yell at me for just trying to help. You can dismiss me when you wanna chat with your girlfriend. But you cannot play games with me! You cannot be nice to me, then change clothes and become a complete ass-hat and expect me to just accept it smilingly!"

"You think I'm Superman?" He knew! Crap-baskets! But how did he know? Wait, this was a good thing right? Conner knew who he was and Clark didn't have to tell him. Now they could just put this whole mess behind them and go home to Ma. Clark wouldn't be the bad guy anymore, Bruce would finally get off his back, and the rest of the League would stop giving him dirty looks when they think he can't see them. But most important of all, Ma wouldn't be disappointed in him anymore.

"I do." The Superboy growled, low and threatening. He backed Clark up against the main support pillar for the Daily Planet globe, pinning the older man there by the collar of his shirt. "Shall we test it?"

Something predatory and dangerous flashed in the clones crystal-blue eyes and Clark felt a sudden stab of concern. This boy could actually hurt him, if he tried. He had been created to kill and replace the Man of Steel after all.

"Only Superman can save you from me!"

Clark didn't really think. He just reacted to the threat that was in front of him and pushed the boy off. Conner went stumbling backwards. His fist, still grasping the reporter's shirt ripped a large chunk of the material off as he fell backwards. There was the sound of tearing fabric and popping buttons, punctuated by a loud THUMP as the Superboy's ass hit the floor of the roof. Clark froze, seeing the torn fragment of shirt in the boy's hand and reflexively looked down to realize in horror that the bright red and yellow S-shield of his uniform was exposed for the world to see.

But there was only one person on the roof to see it...

"So its true." Conner stood. His anger seemed to drain out of him as he climbed back to his feet -still clutching the torn fragment of shirt. "You're really him. You're really fucked-up, ya know that!"

"Conner, I-" Clark didn't really know what to say. This was not how he imagined telling the boy in his mind.

"I don't want to hear!" The kid shouted back. He studied the fragment of shirt he held, turning it over in his hands, folding it into neat squares and then unfolding it again. "I saw it too. I knew. The first moment I saw you in Mr. White's office I recognized you as Superman. But then, the way you acted... I convinced myself that I was wrong, that it was just a coincidence. I should have gone with my initial instinct."

"Listen, Conner, I know I haven't exactly made things easy for you..."

"And how do you know my name?" The boy asked suddenly. "I never told it to either of your personas. Did M'gann tell it to you?"

"Yes." He admitted.

Well, that rankled. Was everyone playing around with him behind his back?

"I'm sorry I haven't exactly been the best of people towards you." Continued the Superman. "But this past month has been the kick in the head I needed. I'm willing to mentor you now. You can be my sidekick, and... and I want you to come home and meet the rest of my family."

"Really?" Snarled the Superboy. "After all this bullshit, lies and double talk, you think I still wanna have anything to do with you!? I have half a mind to change my name from 'Superboy' now. Just so that I won't be associated with you anymore!"

"Now you're just being melodramatic."

"Am I!?" The boy spat. He dropped the shred of fabric he still held and instead grabbed the front of his own T-shirt. One large fist-full of red and black S, and pulled until the material ripped. Conner threw the torn emblem at the Superman's feet. "Take it! Its yours anyway. You never gave it to me. I just sort of happened to have it. We're done now, Clark, or Kal-EL, or what4ever you call yourself! You don't owe me anything and I want nothing to do with you."

That said, the Name-to-be-determined-Boy left.

...

(A/N: Also, since getting my new computer, I not longer have Microsoft Word and so have been trying out different word programs. Because of this, there might be some variation between editing and format of each chapter. I apologize for any inconvenience.)


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of CD Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Kent

Chapter Fifteen:

Clark was not looking forward to this. Facing his mother. Nope. Not looking forward at all.

He landed in the backyard and stood paralyzed for a moment as he eyed the kitchen door with apprehension. Ma would not be happy. Pa would be disappointed in him. Ma would lecture. Pa would try and advise. They would both give him that look. The look of sad disapproval parents only ever used when their child has let them down so hard that no words, lectures or reprimands would ever be enough. Clark had seen that look only once before. When he was in high school and using his powers to showboat and another kid accidentally got hurt. Thus far, that had been the only time Ma and Pa had ever given him that look.

But he knew he was going to see it again tonight.

Taking a deep sigh in an effort to try and settle his nerves, the Man of Steel took one step towards the house. They were just one frail elderly couple. It wasn't like they could actually harm him. The Man of Tomorrow took a second step. Besides, they would forgive him. They were his parents and they loved him. The World's Biggest Boy Scout took a third step. So, what was the worst that could happen? Clark finally stood on the back porch, his hand unmoving on the doorknob.

Taking one final deep breath, the Superman opened the door and stepped inside.

Ma was bent over the stove, basting the turkey and checking its internal temperature. She wore the 'World's Greatest Cook' apron he'd given her one mothers day back in middle school. It was old, faded, well worn, well washed and well loved. Under the apron she wore a modest flowered dress, with a high neck line and lace on the collar. She usually didn't dress for dinner. She was expecting to meet Conner.

Pa sat on the couch in the living room, yelling at the TV. It sounded like Kansas State was lousing to Gotham U. Those damn Knights! Great. Not only had he messed everything up with Superboy, disappointed his parents, but it also looked like he was going to owe Bruce fifty dollars as per their annual bet.

With a less than polite cuss and a groan, Pa ran a hand over his thinning head of hair and Clark saw that he was waring a new plaid shirt. New from the store, ironed and well starched.

"Jon! Don't cuss. What if Superboy heard you carrying on like that!" Ma reprimanded, turning from her work in the kitchen to give her husband a short disciplinary glare before turning her attention to Clark -still standing in the doorway. She dusted off her apron and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face, an expectant smile spread over her lips. "Well now, where is he?"

"He, uh." Clark sputtered under the his mother's eye. "He's... he's not coming."

Ma's smile melted into a frown of puzzlement. "Well, why in the world not?"

"He... I... um, I kinda messed up again, Ma. He hates me. I'm sorry. But... I can tell you his name."

...

M'gann had half a dozen timers sitting on the counter next to the oven. Each neatly labeled 'turkey', 'casserole', 'yams', 'stuffing 1', stuffing 2', 'apple pie', and 'pumpkin pie'. She hovered over them anxiously, watching the seconds tick down, twisting her fingers anxiously in rhythm with their ticking. She would snap and snarl at any of the boys if they stepped even a toe around the island that separated the kitchen from the common area, regardless of whether they were just getting a glass of water, or trying to snag a sample. She wanted this first Thanksgiving on Earth to be perfect and it was going to be perfect gosh darned it!

Finally, Kaldur suggested to Conner, "Perhaps out time might be better spent elsewhere. I might be able to help you with a new name, since you are no longer satisfied with 'Superboy'."

Conner nodded and the boys, followed by Wolf, vanished to the hangar. They stood by Sphere, leaning most of their weight against the wall.

"Most heroes are named according to their powers or themes. Green Arrow, Batman, Hawkwoman... You could be Strongboy."

"No." Conner replied flatly. That just sounded awful. "I was thinking of going with 'power'. Its like 'super' but not. How does 'Powerboy' sound to you?"

Kaldur paused for thought. "Perhaps 'Powerlad' might sound better. Of course, I might be bias since '-lad' also happens to be my suffix."

"But '-lad' just sounds so... blond."

The atlantian raised one quizzical eyebrow.

"Not that there's anything wrong with being blond!" The demi-kryptonian was quick to assure his friend and leader.

"Powerboy it is then." Nodded Aqualad. "Shall I call Robin over to change the security protocols right now?"

"No... It can wait until after the holiday."

...

Martha Kent glared at her son as he explained to them why their grandson would not be joining them for Thanksgiving dinner. She did not say anything. She was to angry to speak, and frankly, anything she could manage to say would be pointless.

Sitting at the table next to Clark, Jonathan sighed. "You and that boy were dealt a bad hand and both of y'all played it poorly."

Sure. A bad hand. That was it. No! That was not it! Martha was beside herself. She said nothing and -calmly- collected Clark's place setting at the table. Putting the unused china plate, silverware, wineglass and napkin away. She then pulled out a series of Tupperware containers and began portioning out helpings of her Thanksgiving feast into them. Cornbread, tater-tots, corn the cob with honey butter, mac 'n' cheese, turkey and ham, stuffing and mixed vegetables in butter with bacon bits. She carefully sealed each container and set them neatly inside a picnic basket.

"Ma...?" Clark called from the dinning room, sounding slightly scared and very shamed. Not as ashamed as she thought he should feel, though. "Is this you sending me to bed without dinner?"

Martha reentered the dinning room and plunked the picnic basket down in front of him. The only explanation she could manage in her enraged state was, "Conner. Go. Now!"

"But he doesn't want-"

"Now!"

...

Fire alarms blared through out the Cave as smoke billowed from the kitchen.

Conner worked the fire extinguisher while Kaldur used his water bearers. M'gann sat in a corner and cried. Her perfect Thanksgiving dinner was completely ruined! And she couldn't understand how. She had followed all the directions, set all the timers, taken everything out when it was supposed to be taken out. Put everything in when it was sup[posed to be put in. Why did things like this always seem to happen to her!?

Conner knelt beside her, covered in wet chalk. "Are you okay? The fire didn't get you, did it?"

She just cried. She had been planning this almost all month and now it was ruined. No, she was not alright! "Everything's ruined!"

Wolf came up on her other side and nuzzled her ear affectionately.

"I believe some of the appliances may be saved." Kaldur informed them.

"And we can always order out for food." Conner added. "But, M'gann, are you okay?"

"Order out!?" She snarled as if he'd just suggested they go steal and nuclear weapon and aim it at a small middle eastern nation. "We can't order out! Are you insane!? Its Thanksgiving! You don't order out on Thanksgiving!"

"M'gann, you're not focusing on what's important here." Conner tried to keep his voice even and level. The kitchen was a mess and it was wreaking havoc with his OCD. "There was a fire just now. You're martian. Are you alright?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She huffed as if exasperated.

Conner sighed with relief. "Okay. Now... you can start freaking out over dinner."

"I am sure someplace would be open tonight." Kaldur suggested.

"We're not eating out!" M'gann snapped.

"Now you're just being unreasonable." Conner told her.

"Its Thanksgiving!" She shouted back.

Their argument would have continued. They certainly looked like they were headed to a rather heated lovers' spat. But the moment was interrupted by the Cave's computer announcing, "Recognize: Superman 01."

Everyone turned to look at the door that lead to the hangar, and sure enough, a few moments later none other than the Man of Steel walked through that carrying what looked like an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket. They all stared at him as if suddenly dazed.

"Uh... hi." He said.

The change in atmosphere was almost instant. All three teenagers went very quiet and very still as they regarded them cautiously. M'gann stood, shifting from the distraught 60s homemaker she often tried to be, to the protective and territorial woman she actually was. One viridecent green hand was placed on the demi-kryptonian's shoulder, while the other made a fist that rested sternly on her hip. Kaldur looked from martian girl and Conner to Superman and back again, wondering if she should stand with his friends or excuse himself from the room. He was Team leader, but this was not Team business.

Conner, the newly christened 'Powerboy', just stood and glared at his genetic parent. "What are you doing here?"

"I, uh..." He held up the picnic basket like a shield. "I brought dinner."

...

Dinner was silent.

Completely silent.

The kitchen was a mess and the common area was all smoky, the ventilation working double-time to get the noxious vapor out of the Cave. So, they had set up a collapsable table in the hangar. M'gann distributed the food to those that were eating, herself, Conner, Superman and Kaldur, which Red Tornado sat and observed from his seat at the head of the table. Sphere, in her ball form, rolled over to be a part of the gathering and Wolf trotted about the table asking for scraps. One woudl think it would have been a merry little party.

But it wasn't.

In fact it was rather stoic. No one said anything. Aside from the occasional "Please pass the -whatever-." it was the most quiet meal any of them had ever taken part in.

Awkward glances and furtive looks were shot at either Conner or Superman periodically and any time any one of them got up -for whatever reason- someone else would offer to do whatever it was they were getting up to do for them. The most amusing of which was when Conner replied, "Thanks, M'gann, but I don't think you have a power that would let you pee for me." This got a bright blush from the martian girl, a politely amused smile from Kaldur, a light chuckle from the Superman and the comment of "Interesting." from Red Tornado.

When all the food was gone, they continued to sit in awkward silence for a moment longer before M'gann finally asked, "So... what are we supposed to do now?"

"As I understand it," began Red Tornado, "this holiday is for giving gratitude for the things that you have in life. I believe we now would go around the table and share something we are grateful for. If it might help, I would like to begin."

No one seemed to object.

So, the android continued, "I wish to express gratitude to you all for allowing me to observe and take part in this event. It has been a very illuminating experience of a concept I have failed to understand until now. I now fully comprehend what 'social tension' is. Thank you."

This was met with awkward or apologetic smiles.

"I guess I'll go next." M'gann said. "I'm grateful all of my friends on the Team, even if they're not all here. Earth is a really difficult place to come to, especially for a telepath like me. But you all make me feel so welcomed and loved. Really, you are my family. And, Uncle J'onn, of course. He didn't have to take me on as a protégée and mentor me, but he did and through him I met all of you. I'm grateful for Uncle J'onn too."

"I, too, am grateful for the Team." Nodded Kaldur. "The surface world is so vastly different from the seas where I grew up. The Team makes me feel at home. I'm also grateful for my King who was kind enough to mentor me and bring me here in the first place. I would be nowhere without him."

The table fell silent.

Everyone glanced between Superman and Powerboy.

Neither said anyhting.

Sphere rolled up and made a series of beeps and trills that was understood by none, but comprehended by all. M'gann gave the sentient alien vehicle an affectionate pat. "I think Sphere is grateful to have been rescued in Bialya and be surrounded by friends."

Wolf gave an enthusiastic "Arff" of agreement to that.

"I guess..." Conner began slowly, "I guess I'm grateful to you, Robin and Wally for rescuing me from Cadmus." He glanced pointedly at Kaldur. "If it wasn't for you guys, who knows what would have happened to me. And, the Justice League for figuring something out for me. And Batman. And, of course, I'm grateful to have M'gann..."

Finally, Superman was the only one who hadn't spoken. All eyes focused on his as he sat which his eyes fixed on his plate, as if in deep thought. Finally, when they were just about to give up and decide he wasn't gonna say anything, they heard, "I'm ungrateful." There was a pause in which the Man of Steel looked up from his plate, but still did not meet anyone's eyes. "I've very ungrateful. Four months ago, I was given an impossible gift -to not be the last of my kind anymore. To mentor this really incredible kid and help him become all that he could be. But I turned that gift away and pushed it onto others, others who could actually see him for the amazing person he was. I... I'm very ungrateful." He finally made eye-contact with the Powerboy. "And I'm sorry."

Conner was silent a moment longer, not sure how to respond.

Finally, he asked, "What do you want me to say?"

"It would be nice if you forgave me." Admitted the Superman. "It took me a long time, but... I'm ready. If you're still willing."

This time the silence dragged on longer.

Then, "I'm still mad at you." Conner began. "I don't want to be your sidekick. But... but it would be nice to have someone help me better understand my powers."

Clark looked hopeful. "I think I can do that."

Conner extended his hand across the table, offering it in a true. "My new name's Powerboy."

"Powerboy, I'm Superman. Pleased to make your acquaintance." And he shook the offered hand.

...

END


End file.
